


The Recklessness in Water

by LarryOn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, American AU, Fluff, Heavy Drinking, Lake Winnipesaukee, Lifeguard!Harry, Light Angst, M/M, New Hampshire, Skinny Dipping, Smut, beer pong, eventually, flirting via megaphone, unemployed!Louis, very light, very minimal side-Ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 05:04:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 50,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20960945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarryOn/pseuds/LarryOn
Summary: Louis Tomlinson is miserable. He's stuck on a family vacation at a lake cabin in New Hampshire when all he wants to do is bemoan his sorry existence and wallow in his sweatpants. As if the humidity and mosquitos weren't bad enough, he becomes the singular target of an obnoxious lifeguard named Harry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a photo of Harry looking very tan and vacation-y in Canada this past summer. It brought to mind all of my favorite things about summer vacation in New England: lobster rolls, cliff jumping, motor boats, swimming to a raft, outdoor showers, clam bakes, and SO MUCH MORE. Of course, I'm actually getting around to posting this as it is solidly fall here in the Northern Hemisphere, but maybe you need a little bit of summer love to get you through the coming winter.
> 
> This fic is complete! Thank you to everyone who has been reading along!
> 
> Title is from the song Nightswimming by REM.
> 
> Big giant thank you to my friend and beta [maevewren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maevewren/pseuds/maevewren) for being the greatest always.
> 
> I will never understand Tumblr but I at least managed to make a post about this fic. [Tumblr post!](https://larryonsimon.tumblr.com/post/190667720263/the-recklessness-in-water-50k-by-larryon-louis)

It’s hot.

No, scratch that. It’s sweltering.

No, actually, it’s like Louis’s sitting on a splintery Adirondack chair in the bowels of hell, except he imagines hell to be more of a dry heat so…perhaps he should say it’s like he’s tucked up behind Satan’s sweaty ballsack and it’s Satan who’s sitting in the splintery chair, not Louis. All Louis knows is:

  1. He’s got splinters in his ass.
  2. He’s got sweat soaked through his t-shirt in the most fetching manner (concentrated on his belly and in his arm pits).
  3. He’s stuck on this humid nightmare of a family vacation for 14 more days.

Why he ever agreed to come on this trip, he will never know. Well, no. That’s not true. He knows exactly why he’s here. He’s a 24-year-old man with a degree in Theater who’s had no appealing job prospects since he graduated from college two years ago. He lives with his parents, and has just been fired from his most recent soul-destroying job doing data entry for a medical supply company. When his mom decided that she wanted the whole family to drive up to New Hampshire from their home in New Jersey to spend two weeks by Lake Winnipesaukee, he had no excuse not to go. And so he finds himself, sweaty, stuck through with splinters, already scratching at mosquito bites (forgot to mention the mosquitos! Surely there are mosquitos in hell), waiting for his mother, father and siblings to get their asses in gear so they can all trek down to the beach from their (definitely too small for eight people) rental house and get this family vacation “thing” rolling.

“Are we about ready?” Louis calls through the screen door.

No answer, just giggles and squeals from his siblings scattered throughout the house. He feels bad being such a crab about everything, just not quite bad enough to change his attitude. Still, it’s not his mom’s fault his life is such shit lately. He can admit (to himself, and never out loud) that, despite the humidity levels and the vampiric insects, they are in a lovely spot. It’s just not enough to make him forget he’s got no fucking idea what to do with his life and that he’ll have nothing to do but try to figure that out when this trip is over. He’s going to be spending the entirety of the trip with a massive pit in his stomach, dreading his nonexistent future. Not a stellar foundation for family fun time. He leans his head against the back of the chair and pinches the bridge of his nose. He hates to be unappreciative of his parents bringing them all on this trip, but if he’s really honest, he can’t wait for the whole thing to be over. These next two weeks are going to feel tortuous, like he’s just delaying coming to terms with the inevitable: his life is fucked and he’s going to spend the rest of it living with his mom and dad.

The screen door slides open and his mom pops her head out.

“There you are! Come give me a hand? The sooner everyone is sunblocked up, the sooner we’ll be laying out on the beach!” she says.

And the sooner this will all be over with, Louis thinks to himself with a sigh.

“Right behind you!” he says through gritted teeth, giving his best approximation of an enthusiastic smile. His mom’s raised eyebrow makes him think it comes across as more of a grimace.

* * *

Forty five minutes later, the Tomlinson army is out of the house and headed to the beach. Louis can say what he will about the size of the house, it at least has room for all of them to sleep in an actual bed, and the proximity to the lake is amazing. Just out the backdoor there’s a path that leads through some trees, in between a couple other houses and down a wooden staircase to the far end of the neighborhood beach. Renting the house gives them access to the beach for the length of their stay and Louis’s mom, Kate, has proclaimed that this is where the bulk of their vacation will be spent.

Louis has never been much of a beach lover but the majority of his experience has been at the Jersey Shore, which is about an hour from where they live. This whole New England lake thing is something his mom has wanted to do as long as Louis can remember. It certainly looks different from the Jersey Shore. Just take all of the rollercoasters and other vomit-inducing rides and replace them with trees. And then get rid of all the t-shirt vendors and carnival games and replace them with, well, more trees. This couldn’t possibly be more different. In addition to all the trees (there really are quite a lot of trees), the lake itself is still and peaceful, compared to the crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean. The water gently laps at the shore instead of rushing in with a roar and sucking back out in a foamy retreat. The air smells different as well. Unlike the salty air of the New Jersey coastline, which smells like a combination of brackish sea water, fried foods, and rotting fish, the air here smells fresh and loamy, like the forest floor combined with the scent of pine needles. With his eyes closed, only the occasional whiff of sunscreen can remind him that he’s not actually in the middle of the woods. He takes a deep breath and feels the pit in his stomach shrink the teeniest, tiniest bit.

He helps his parents unfold beach chairs and spread out towels as the kids run down the beach, into the water. The youngest, Julia, who is only five, is doing her best to keep up with her older siblings, Lucas, who’s eight, Andrew, ten, and the sixteen year old twins, Emily and Nora. Julia is throwing herself into the lake right after them. Louis, ever the attentive older brother, is comforted by the fact that she is wearing floaties, but even so, he does a scan of the beach to determine the lifeguard situation. About 50 feet from where they’ve set up camp is a lifeguard stand, a tall wooden structure with a bench on top, painted white and shielded from the sun by a massive red umbrella. A young woman in a red one-piece swimsuit sits atop the tower with one of those red foam floats draped across her lap. Louis’s not sure he knows what that thing’s actually called. No matter, though, he’s relieved they ended up at a beach with a lifeguard on duty. Satisfied with his siblings’ safety and the state of the beach chairs and towels, he gives his mom a little salute and sets off towards the lake.

“Incoming!” he yells at the top of his voice as he dives into the water in the midst of his brothers and sisters. The water is crisp and cool and feels amazing after he’s been sweating in the humidity for the last few hours. A bit of a splashing fight breaks out and Louis, being the largest, manages to properly drench every last one of the kids. Big brotherly duty done, he ducks underwater and starts to swim out toward the raft that’s floating in the deeper water.

The distance from the shore to the raft is not insignificant and Louis is slightly winded as he climbs the ladder attached to the side. The raft is covered in AstroTurf that has seen better summers and is quite matted down. He pulls himself over the top of the ladder and promptly sprawls out on his back in the center of the raft, chest heaving. He’s the only one out there and it’s far enough from the shore that he can barely hear the sounds of kids squealing. It’s just the breeze blowing in off the center of the lake and the slapping of the water against the underside of the raft. That pit in his stomach is shrinking more and more with each lungful of fresh air. Without meaning to, Louis dozes off in the middle of the raft.

He wakes with a start when he’s hit with a deluge of cold water square on the chest.

“Hey! What the fuck?!” he splutters and sits up.

“Wake up, dickhead! You’ve been out here for an hour!” His sister Emily is standing above him with a bucket in her hand and a shit-eating grin on her face. Her twin, Nora, is clinging to the raft ladder, laughing too hard to climb the rest of the way up.

“You little shits!” Louis mutters, only half mad. He leaps to his feet and lunges for Emily. She yelps and attempts to dodge his grasp, but he catches her up by the waist and hoists her into the air.

“Put me down, you asshole!” Emily laughs as she swings her bucket down to hit Louis’s back. It’s all too much for Nora, who has let go of the ladder and dropped back into the lake. She grabs onto the lowest rung to keep herself above water while practically doubled over with laughter. Louis manages to wrangle Emily over to the edge of the raft and shoves her off of his shoulder and into the water. She makes a quite satisfying splash.

“NO ROUGH HOUSING ON THE RAFT PLEASE.” Louis hears a shrill whistle blow and a deep voice reprimanding him from the shore. Shame-faced and startled, he looks to the beach. Who the hell was that? Surely not the girl who’d been sitting on the lifeguard tower when he last looked. No, it is indeed a different lifeguard. Holy Hell, is it ever. It’s hard for Louis to get a good look from all the way out on the raft but from what little he can tell, this new lifeguard is male, tattooed, and tan, with long brown hair pulled up into a bun on the top of his head. He’s wearing a pair of red swim trunks and is holding a megaphone in one hand and a whistle in the other. Louis _could_ be mistaken but he also looks hot as fuck. His face burning with humiliation at being scolded, Louis hopes he _is_ mistaken.

“Sorry!” Louis calls out, giving a sheepish wave towards the lifeguard stand.

“I FORGIVE YOU. DON’T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN.” Hot Lifeguard says into his megaphone.

“You forgive me?” Louis mutters under his breath. “What the fuck.” He squints at the shore, not sure how to respond. Emily swings her empty bucket up over the side of the raft and manages to lob it right up against the side of his head.

“Ow!” he exclaims. “Hey! Lifeguard! Don’t you have anything to say about that?!” he calls out towards the beach. It’s almost impossible to tell from this distance but he could swear Hot Lifeguard smirks at him.

“CARRY ON,” he says into the megaphone. Definitely smirking. Louis can _hear _it in his voice. Who does he think he is?

With a scowl on his face, Louis dives into the water and begins to swim back to the beach.

“PLEASE DON’T LEAVE PERSONAL ITEMS ON THE RAFT,” Hot Lifeguard says into the megaphone as soon as Louis surfaces.

“What?! Personal items…are you still talking to me?!” he splutters while treading water. Emily and Nora have long since made it to shore and are practically crying over this exchange.

“THE BUCKET.” It’s too much for his sisters. They collapse to the sand in a fit of laughter.

Grumbling to himself, Louis swims back to the raft, climbs the ladder and retrieves the bucket. He’s far too grumpy at this point to jump into the water. He returns to the ladder and starts to climb down backwards. Midway down he freezes at a sharp trill from the lifeguard’s whistle. He whips his head around to glare at the beach.

“THANK YOU.”

Louis does not like this guy.

* * *

Louis spends the rest of the day doing his level best to avoid Hot Lifeguard. When he returns to shore from the raft, bucket in tow, he purposely swims as far down the beach as he can before exiting the water. Hot Lifeguard clearly takes his job seriously, despite using his authority to harass Louis. He’s too focused on the safety of everyone swimming to be able to pay attention to Louis once he’s ensconced himself inside the city of beach chairs, towels and umbrellas his family has erected. Louis sits in a low chair, the back reclined at a 45-degree angle. With a towel draped over his shoulders he sullenly scrolls through Twitter, tossing Hot Lifeguard the occasional glare. He sighs. This fucking trip.

Before too long, the other lifeguard walks back out onto the beach. As soon as Louis spots her his body tenses up. He knows what this means. Sure enough, she walks over to the lifeguard stand and says something to Hot Lifeguard. He jumps down to the sand, hands her the red floaty thing, and then…Jesus Christ he’s not. No, no, no, what is up with this guy?! He can’t be, he really can’t…yep, he is. He’s walking directly to Louis.

Louis is suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for his Ray Bans, allowing him to watch Hot Lifeguard lope over in his direction without being terribly obvious. It turns out Hot Lifeguard is not the most accurate nickname for this guy. Scorching Hot, Sexy AF Lifeguard is a bit more fitting. Louis’s original assessment was not incorrect; he is, in fact, tan and tattooed with hair pulled up in a bun. But he’s not _just _tan. His skin is golden and glistening with sweat and sunscreen. And his tattoos. Fuck. Louis has quite a few himself and is no stranger to a tattooed body, but this is on another level. In addition to a huge assortment all over his left arm that rivals Louis’s collection in randomness, this guy’s got laurel leaves just above his hips and a pair of sparrows on his collar bones, both places that, well...let’s just say they look good. But the one that makes Louis draw in a quick breath that he can’t seem to let back out is the butterfly. He has a massive _butterfly_ tattooed across his abdomen, just below his chest but above his belly. Who does that?! Louis can’t even comprehend _how _it looks as sexy as it does, it seems like such a terrible idea, but it _does_. And then, the hair. It’s shiny and chestnut brown, pulled up into a loose bun at his crown, a few stray curls that have escaped held back from his face with a red silk bandana tied around his head. A silk bandana. At the beach. His lips are full and deep pink. He has a jawline that’s so sharp it could cut glass and as he lowers his sunglasses Louis sees that he has brilliant green eyes that sparkle in the late afternoon light.

With the lifeguard’s glasses off, Louis knows he’s looking right at him. Louis realizes he’s been holding his breath as Hot Lifeguard approaches, long, lanky limbs striding across the sand. The dude is like a giraffe. Louis tries to exhale slowly, but the air stutters out of his nose because, just at that moment, Hot Lifeguard winks (he actually winks!) at him and the right side of his mouth curls up in a half smirk, complete with giant dimple. Of course he would have a dimple.

Louis shakes his head slightly. Snap out of it Tomlinson, he reprimands himself. He straightens up and opens his mouth to speak when Hot Lifeguard suddenly breaks eye contact with him and changes course slightly. He walks right past Louis and approaches his parents.

“Hi folks! My name’s Harry Styles.” Astonished and embarrassed, Louis turns just enough to see him reach his hand out to Louis’s mom first and then his dad.

“Nice to meet you, Harry,” she beams up at him, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun. Or from his beauty, Louis can’t be sure which. He glowers at them, just in case it’s the latter. “I’m Kate and this is Geoff. We’re renting a house in the neighborhood for the next two weeks.” Louis narrows his gaze at her. No loyalty from his own mother.

“You’ve got quite the crowd here with you! I think half of the kids here today showed up with you guys!” Ooh, so original, _Harry, _no one’s ever commented on the size of our family before, aren’t you clever, Louis thinks.

His mom just chuckles. “It’s true, and they’re all ours as well. Five young ones out there on the beach and in the lake. And then Louis here!” Louis winces at the sound of his name. Should he turn around? Can he plausibly pretend he didn’t hear the introduction?

“Louis!” No such luck. He turns to see Hot Lifeguard, er, Harry, grinning at him with one eyebrow quirked up and, oh Jesus, he has _two_ dimples. “Lovely to learn your name. That’ll help me out next time you’re breaking rules out on the raft.”

Louis can feel his face flush. Why does this guy keep trying to embarrass him? And why does Louis care enough that it keeps working? He definitely doesn’t like it. “Yeah, sorry about that. We’re new here. Not familiar with the rules yet, I guess.”

“Likely story.” Harry says, pursing his lips and squinting at Louis. He points two fingers at his own eyes, then turns his hand to point at Louis. “I’ve got my eye on you Louis, uh…”

“Tomlinson! Louis Tomlinson,” Kate happily supplies.

“Tomlinson, even better! Thanks for that, Kate.” Harry smiles openly at Louis’s mom before turning back to Louis, eyes narrowing again, still pointing. “I’ll be watching you, Tomlinson.”

And then, yet again, he winks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some heavy drinking.
> 
> THANK YOU to [maevewren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maevewren/pseuds/maevewren), my wonderful beta and friend.
> 
> I have to add, I'm still reeling from the release of Lights Up last night. I think I only got 3 hours sleep. Too much adrenaline. UGH. But it was WORTH IT. Harry is amazing and I love him and I'm so proud of him! Editing this chapter and posting seemed like a decent way to channel this energy!

Thankfully, Harry doesn’t stick around after that. He saunters off over the beach and into the clubhouse where the lifeguards seem to spend their breaks. While Louis certainly wouldn’t mind looking at his stupidly beautiful face for a few minutes more, he can do without the teasing. Who does this guy think he is, anyway? Louis’s already planning a fortnight’s worth of wallowing and self-loathing. He doesn’t need to add self-conscious humiliation to the mix. Harry can keep his lifeguard swagger to himself, thank you very much.

When the kids are about to drop on their feet and it’s becoming evident that they all need to be more diligent with sunscreen reapplication moving forward, the family packs everything up and heads back to the rental house for some dinner.

As they enter the backyard, Louis sees a stranger sitting in the splintery Adirondack chair. It's a young man with sun bleached blond hair who looks to be about Louis’s age. He raises a hand when he notices the family approaching.

“Hey there!” He slides forward to stand up out of the chair. “Ah!” He slaps a hand on the back of his thigh and turns to inspect the chair.

“Yeah, that thing will draw blood if you're not careful.” Louis says, as he steps up on to the deck. “And who are you, then?”

“Oh, sorry! Got distracted there. I'm Niall! My folks own the house next door. I saw you all arrive earlier and thought I'd come say hi.” He waves to the kids and offers a handshake to Louis’s parents. Kate and Geoff smile warmly and make introductions all around.

After the bulk of them have crowded into the house to change and fight over who gets to take the first shower, Niall drops a hand on Louis’s shoulder and says, quiet enough that only he can hear “Your family’s great and all but I really just wanted to meet you, man. This town can be awfully dull if you only have your folks to hang out with. I should know, I've spent my share of boring ass summers here myself, before I finally made some local friends. Thought you might appreciate knowing someone who doesn't go to bed before nine o’clock.”

Louis hadn’t considered that there might actually be something to do here at night. He’d been so down about everything lately, he hadn’t been going out much at home as it is. He’d foreseen his evenings on vacation being spent playing Boggle with his parents and he was kind of ok with that. Board games and early bedtimes felt like the perfect match for his shitty mood.

“So, I was wondering if you want to come along to a party tonight? Just down at the clubhouse by the beach. There’s a group of townies and other kids like me who spend most of their summers here. It’s a good crowd. Should be a fun time.”

Oof, a party. And not just any party, but a party where Louis only knows one other person and can barely even say that. He had been getting used to the idea of wallowing in this new, exotic (can he call New Hampshire exotic?) locale.

“You know, I just don’t think…” Louis starts to speak when his mom calls out from inside the house.

“He’d love to go to a party with you!”

“Mom!” Louis protests.

She comes up to the screen door. “What? If you think you are going to mope around here every night of this trip you are sorely mistaken, my love.”

“Excellent!” Niall claps a hand on Louis’s shoulder. “I’ll be back to pick you up around 9!”

* * *

After Niall leaves, Louis tries to call Kate out for accepting the invitation on his behalf.

“It’s just not what I came here for, Mom.”

“Oh don’t hand me that. You wouldn’t have come here at all if I hadn’t forced you.” Kate rolls her eyes and starts rummaging through the fridge they just stocked that morning. She emerges with a plastic grocery bag full of ears of corn, purchased at a farm stand on their way into town. “Here, shuck.”

Louis grumbles under his breath, but he takes the bag and sits down at the kitchen table.

“I just don’t feel like it, ok? It’s not lost on me that you wouldn’t have forced me to come if I still had a job. Or any leads on a new one. Or, you know, absolutely ANY CLUE what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.” He tears off a fistful of corn husk.

“Oh honey.” Kate’s expression softens, and she runs a hand through Louis’s hair. “I’m sorry. I guess I was just hoping you’d be able to relax a little bit…not worry about that stuff for a couple weeks. There’s no use stressing yourself out about it now. All of that will be waiting when we get home.”

He stops trying to detangle his fingers from a wad of corn silk and gives Kate a disbelieving look.

“Yes, Mom, I know. That is the problem!”

“Ok, ok…” she laughs as she takes the ear he was de-silking out of his hand. “I just meant, we’re here, you’re here, why not make the most of it? Have some fun while you can. Go to a party or two! Temporarily avoiding your problems so that you can eke a little joy out of life is pretty standard in adulthood. You might as well get used to it.”

Louis spends the next few hours secretly brainstorming ways to get out of the party without his mom catching on. Despite what Kate might think, he is still not convinced, but it’s getting late, and he hasn’t come up with a way to sneak past her watchful eye and up to the room he’s sharing with his sisters without them tattling on him. Goddamnit. New friends are seriously going to cut into his wallowing time.

True to his word, Niall is back at the screen door promptly at nine.

“All ready, Tomlinson?” he calls through the screen. He’s got his nose pressed against it and some of his blond hair is actually poking through.

“Have fun, sweetheart!” Louis’s mom calls out from the kitchen table. Louis’s parents are, in fact, playing Boggle.

“Thanks Mom. I won’t be late.” Louis says.

“Don’t be silly! Niall, you keep him out as late as you want.” Kate says. “We’re on vacation!”

“You got it!” Niall makes finger guns at her and a clicking sound in his cheek.

Louis sighs.

* * *

The clubhouse, as it turns out, is not the fancy pants, chichi place Louis had assumed it would be. It’s actually a rather musty smelling old building that was built to host mixers and dances in the 1950’s and doesn’t seem to have been updated since. The majority of the building consists of one giant room that houses a massive stone fireplace Louis would bet good money has bats living inside. There’s a ping pong table, and a collection of garish plaid and floral couches that were most likely discarded from neighboring homes a couple decades ago and relocated here. On either end of the great room is a changing area/storage closet/restroom so primitive they give Louis flashbacks to the summer he spent at Boy Scout camp when he was eight. Louis had quit the scouts soon after.

There’s a decent sized group of kids here already, with music playing loudly from a Bluetooth speaker set atop the fireplace mantle. There’s a keg against the far wall, next to a folding table heavily laden with red Solo cups and endless options for filling them. It’s immediately clear to Louis that everyone here knows everyone else already, and quite well at that. He’s beginning to consider just slipping out without Niall noticing when the boy grabs him by the elbow and leads him over to a couple of guys standing by the keg.

“Louis, meet Zayn and Liam,” Niall says as he squeezes his way in between the two of them and puts an arm around both of their shoulders. “Zayn’s been coming here every summer for even longer than I have. And good old Liam here’s a townie!” Niall lifts his hand off of Liam’s shoulder and attempts to ruffle his perfect quiff but Liam’s too fast for him and ducks out from under his arm, just in the nick of time.

“Louis, you want something to drink?” Liam asks.

“I would!” Niall raises his hand.

“You can serve yourself.” Liam says, pointing a finger at Niall’s chest. “Louis?”

“Absolutely.” Louis smiles at the face Niall makes at Liam before turning to the keg.

Drink in hand, Louis surveys the party. He freezes mid-sip when he notices a pair of green eyes locked on him from across the room. Harry. Of course, Harry is here. His mouth quirks up into a tiny smile when he sees that Louis has spotted him. As quick as he can, Louis breaks eye contact and turns back to Niall. Fuck.

“Are you ok, man?” Niall asks. “You look a little pale all of a sudden.”

“Yeah, I'm fine, just…no, it’s nothing.” Louis takes a swig of his beer. Niall raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t push any further and continues his conversation with Zayn and Liam. Louis runs his hand through his hair and does his best to casually glance over in Harry’s direction. He’s no longer looking at Louis. In fact, he seems exceedingly amused by whatever the dude he’s with is saying, his head thrown back and his mouth open wide with laughter. God, he looks like a horse, Louis thinks. A fucking hot horse, but still. And what the fuck could possibly be so funny? Louis realizes he’s been staring too long when Harry’s laugh tapers off and he looks back up at him. His eyes are gleaming and he seems a bit startled when he catches Louis’s eye. Before Louis can look away, Harry brings his fingers up to his eyes and then points to Louis, just like he did on the beach. Louis is so taken aback by this that he can’t bring himself to look away before Harry does. Shit. This guy.

Niall refills Louis’s drink, then they work their way around the room, Niall greeting everyone they see with a friendly hug and introducing Louis. Every single person present has been spending at least part of their summers here for the past 15 to 20 years, either because their families own a vacation home or they’ve actually grown up in town. They’re all in their twenties now and a lot of them have either moved away or aren’t able to come for as much time during the summer as they used to, so the whole party has the feeling of a class reunion. Louis’s a bit intimidated by how close-knit the group seems to be but everyone seems happy to meet him and Niall is clearly not going to abandon him.

They’re making their way closer and closer to the cluster of people that includes Harry, and Louis is starting to plan a well-timed trip to the bathroom before they reach him. Louis is loath to admit it, but he’s been watching Harry out of the corner of his eye all night, tensing up every time Harry looks his way. Even if he weren’t in high-alert, Harry-avoidance mode, he’d still find his attention drawn in Harry’s direction. The guy is like a cute cat video, or a celebrity shopping for groceries— impossible to look away from. (Maybe a sexy car crash?) Louis sees the effect Harry has on the other party guests, the way they get pulled into conversation with him, the way they enter, willingly, into his thrall. His charisma radiates throughout the room. Louis hates it. Harry’s confidence is offensive. How is he so self-assured? What makes him think he’s God’s gift to Lake Winnipesaukee? Well, Louis _knows_ what, and everyone else knows, and obviously Harry knows…Louis just doesn’t think it’s very becoming of Harry to let everyone know he knows. They’re so close to Harry now that Louis swears he can smell sunshine and affability wafting through the air around him. He’s about to make his escape to the bathroom when Zayn bounds up to them and throws his arms over Louis’s and Niall’s shoulders.

“Pong Pong, anyone?” he asks.

“If you call it by its official name, then yes,” Niall responds.

“Sorry, man, we voted before you got here and Pong Pong _is_ the official name,” Zayn says.

“What?!” Niall asks, indignant. “What happened to World Class Ultimate Beer Pong?!”

“Too long and too boring.” Zayn turns to Louis. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I have to say, I like the sound of Pong Pong,” Louis says.

“Thank you! Now let’s play.” Zayn grabs them both by the elbow and drags them toward the ping pong table.

Pong Pong turns out to be an elaborate version of Beer Pong, played on a full sized ping pong table, complete with paddles, shot glasses full of god-knows-what mixed in with the standard Solo cups of beer (which are many in number and arranged in elaborate patterns), and more rules than Louis can be expected to learn in an entire summer, let alone one night. He is assured by Niall that, as his partner, he will be apprised of all pertinent guidelines as they go.

“And don’t worry, we won’t even get tipsy, I always crush the opposition. I’m a World Class Ultimate Beer Pong pro. Zayn, Liam, you boys ready?” Niall says.

“Um, it’s called Pong Pong and sorry, but I’m not drinking tonight.” Liam shrugs.

“What?! Zayn! Who are you playing with?” Niall asks. “It can’t be me, I can’t abandon sweet young Louis here.”

“I’ll play,” a deep voice pipes up behind them.

Louis’s shoulders tense immediately at the sound of that voice.

“Alright, Harry! Please! I need a partner.” Zayn gestures to Louis. “Have you met Louis?”

“I had the pleasure this afternoon.” Harry sidles up next to them (out of nowhere, Louis swears).“So glad to see you got caught up with this dickhead.” He claps a hand on Niall’s shoulder and pulls him into a tight hug. He then makes his way to the other side of the table and clasps hands with and hugs Liam and Zayn. He now seems to be studiously avoiding eye contact with Louis. Or maybe Louis’s just imagining it. Maybe Louis’s actually staring at him? Fuck. That is the last thing he needs to be doing. It’s just…Harry’s shirt is more than half way unbuttoned and despite the fact that Louis saw him completely shirtless at the beach that afternoon, something about his chest (i.e. his tattoos) just peeking out a bit is infinitely hotter than having everything on full display. He sees the tips of those sparrow wings, and the top of that ridiculous butterfly is just visible above the top button that is actually buttoned. Louis doesn’t like this guy, he doesn’t want to be excited he gets to stare at his chest throughout the length of this game, but Jesus Christ. He’s only human.

Harry joins Zayn on the opposite end of the ping pong table.

“So, what version are we playing then? Quorum of 2015 Playbook? Beirut Switch-em-up? Onesie-Twosies?” Harry grabs a paddle and tosses it between his hands.

“I think for Louis’s sake, we need to keep it simple.” Zayn says. “So, standard Pong Pong rules as determined last summer, double bouncing is allowed, blindfolds for triple penalties ONLY, maximum two types of shots.” To Louis he says, “In addition to the beer of course.”

“Oh yeah, of course.” Louis furrows his brow and gives a nod like he has any clue what’s being said. He turns to Niall and asks, worriedly, “I’m going to get fucking plastered, aren’t I?”

“No way! I told you, I am a pro. We’ve got this in the bag.”

“Don’t worry Tomlinson, I’ll be gentle.” Harry says with a grin. As Zayn makes sure all cups and shot glasses are full and in proper position, Harry picks up a second paddle and an empty vodka bottle and, much to Louis’s astonishment, he starts to fucking _juggle_. He’s keeping all three objects up in the air and as ridiculous as it is, Louis can’t look away. The way his arms flex with the repetitive motion, the way he keeps his shoulders square and knees bent slightly. He keeps his eyes and his chin raised, showing off his long neck. The tip of his tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. The whole display is a little obscene.

“Styles, quit showing off!” Niall says. He's poised in a slight crouch, paddle in his right hand, ping pong ball in his left. “Let’s do this!”

Harry tosses one of the paddles to Zayn, puts the other one on the table in front of him, then slickly flips the vodka bottle up over his shoulder and catches it behind his back. He spreads his arms and sticks out his chest, looking to his audience for applause. Zayn is happy to oblige and, much to Louis’s chagrin, he himself can't help but give a small cheer.

“Just trying to distract the competition.” Harry says with an eyebrow raised at Louis.

Ugh, Louis thinks to himself. It worked.

Niall is not the Pong Pong master that he claimed to be. An hour later, he’s stripped down to his underwear, Louis has lost his pants (no one mentioned that standard rules involved stripping), much of Louis’s person has become quite sticky (a portion of the game was played with maraschino cherries instead of ping pong balls), their side of the table has been completely decimated, and Niall is about to make one last ditch effort to reclaim some of their dignity. Of course, he has to do it blindfolded, so Louis’s expectations are quite low. Niall at least had the decency to shoulder more of the burden of the copious amounts of alcohol they were required to drink, since he’d so severely oversold himself. Still, Louis has had a fair amount. Niall is absolutely smashed.

“Ok, last chance here, Nialler.” Harry looks way too pleased about this situation. While Zayn has done his best to take it easy on Louis (and Niall, for that matter, once it became clear just how terrible he was), Harry is as competitive as anything, howling every time Louis and Niall have to drink, trying to distract them when it’s their turn, and teasing Louis nonstop, always with a sparkle in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. For the sake of both Louis’s ego and his eyes, at least Harry is also down to his underwear. Small blessings.

Niall is poised with the ball against his paddle, swaying a bit and feeling the edge of the table in an attempt to point himself in the right direction.

“You can do this, Niall.” Louis tries to be encouraging.

Niall cannot do this. The ball bounces on the table once then sails right over Zayn and Harry’s cups and onto the floor. They cheer.

“Did I get it?” Niall lifts the blindfold off of one eye.

“You did not, my friend! Not even close.” Louis puts an arm around Niall’s shoulders. When he looks across the table at Harry, lining up the final shot that will most certainly be their death knell, there’s something different in his expression. Harry’s no longer smiling, his lips are pursed and he scrunches up his nose.

“Alright,” Liam says from the side of the table, “let’s wrap this up, Harry.” He’s been a dedicated supporter of both teams but is clearly getting bored with the game.

Harry narrows his eyes at Louis and Niall. There’s one shot glass left on the table. The rules state if the ball hits the top of a shot glass but bounces out, you drink the shot, but if it lands in the glass and stays there, you get a refill of your opponent’s choice and drink double. The look of determination on Harry’s face makes Louis nervous. He drops his arm from Niall’s shoulders. The corner of Harry’s mouth quirks up in a barely perceptible smile. He hits the ball. It lands in the glass. It stays there. Of course.

Harry and Zayn cheer, arms held aloft. They embrace each other. Liam, abandoning his position as impartial cheerleader, joins them.

“Hey Louis…” Niall is leaning on his elbows on the ping pong table. “I just don’t know if I can…” His eyes are drifting closed.

“Don’t worry, pal. I got this one.” Louis removes the ball from the glass, wrinkles his nose, then takes the shot. He slams the glass back down on the table and says “Ok, rules are rules. I’m no shirker. Fill ‘er up.”

“Harry, final move of the game…what should we give him?” Zayn asks.

“I don’t know, I think he’s suffered enough. Maybe we should let him off without the double,” he says, eyes locked on Louis. His face has softened.

“You’re shitting me!” Louis exclaims. “You’ve been gunning for my ass this entire time, and now you’re going to take it easy on me?!”

Harry’s eyes widen and he pulls his lips in between his teeth. “I mean…”

“Seriously, I can admit defeat. I don’t need your benevolent pity.” Louis may not love Harry’s teasing but he can certainly take it and he doesn’t want anyone to think otherwise.

Harry stares at Louis for a moment longer then shakes his head, snapping himself out of whatever trance he had been in. He turns and gives Liam and Zayn a questioning look.

“I’ve never known you to let anyone off easy, Styles.” Liam shrugs. “Don’t know why you would start now.”

Harry tips his head to the side, considering this, then nods his head with a sigh. “You’re right…you’re right! Get over here, Tomlinson, your ass is, indeed, mine.” Harry pulls at his lower lip while examining the collection of booze he has to choose from (they’ve been awfully lax about the “two types of shots” rule. Apparently that doesn’t apply to penalties and bonuses). He selects a bottle and presents it to Louis. “Tequila?”

“Whatever you say.” Louis holds out the empty shot glass and lets Harry fill it. There are some truly horrific options that he could have gone with so Louis still feels like Harry’s taking it easy on him. He’ll let it drop, though.

Louis raises the glass to his lips but Harry says “Hold up.” He fills a second glass and holds it out to Louis. “Cheers.”

Louis’s eyes go from the proffered glass to Harry’s face. How is this guy fucking with me now, he wonders.

Louis clinks their glasses together and throws the shot back.

* * *

The party starts to dwindle not long after that. Groups of friends have wandered out on to the beach or back to someone’s house. Some have paired off and are making out (at best, dry humping at worst) on the couches or have left the clubhouse for a bed somewhere, or at least Louis hopes a bed, not the woods or some other equally prickly place. Zayn and Liam are standing close and muttering a quiet conversation between the two of them and Niall is still fall-down drunk. He’s taken control of the music and has been singing along to The Cranberries while sobbing over the death of Dolores O’Riordan, which he either just learned of or forgot in his drunken stupor. His wailing and screeching version of “Zombie” _might_ have something to do with the mass migration of party guests to points unknown.

Louis has long since lost track of Harry. Not that he’s noticed…much. It’s just that having Harry’s attention and teasing focused on him for so long while they played the game had Louis feeling a bit tense. Now that Harry’s gone, the absence of that attention is weirdly palpable. Louis feels as if he was sitting out on a terribly humid day with the sun beating down on him and then suddenly stepped inside, into the air conditioning. Sure, it’s more comfortable, but there’s a sort of nothingness around him now, as opposed to the sweaty, sticky heat of Harry’s eyes on him. Louis tries to focus on the relief, not the absence.

Niall is starting up “Zombie” again, for what has to be the twelfth time, but he’s at least sitting down in front of the fireplace and is singing softly to himself now, eyes closed, swaying back and forth, still quietly blubbering over Dolores. Zayn and Liam take that as their cue to leave. They call their goodbyes from across the room.

“What do you say, pal?” Louis stands over him and places a hand on his shoulder. “Ready to go home?”

Niall turns a splotchy red face up toward Louis. Between sniffles he says, “I don’t think I can, man. Too sad.” He looks away wistfully, off into the distance. “Not to mention I’m still smashed as fuck. Don’t know if I’d make it up the stairs. Was thinking I’d just crash here for the night on one of the couches. Wouldn’t be the first time.” He hiccups. “D’you wanna stay?”

“Tempting offer, but no, thank you. I may have to share a room with my sisters but there’s at least a bed for me.”

“Aw, I feel shitty not walking you back! Ok, never mind…I think I can make it.” Niall attempts to heave himself up off the hearth and immediately stumbles forward, his face turning slightly green.

“Woah there, Nialler.” Harry appears out of nowhere (yet again, Louis notes) and grabs Niall by the elbow. He puts an arm around his waist and guides him over to the nearest sofa. “You aren’t going anywhere, sweetheart. I’m going to get you a pillow, a trash can, and a glass of water and then I’m going to walk Louis home. You just stay here and sleep.”

“Oh, er, you don’t have to—” Louis sputters. He thought Harry was gone. He’d let his guard down.

“Louis, please!” Uh oh. The glint in his eyes is back. “Our precious Niall is unwell. Let’s try to keep our voices down.”

“Walk with H, Louis…I feel shit enough, don’t make me worry about you alone in the woods.”

Harry procures an almost empty trash can and places it on the floor by the end of the couch. He grabs a pillow from another couch and tucks it under Niall’s head, then covers his body with a few stray beach towels from the lost and found.

“I’m putting water on the floor here, try to drink some, please.” Harry ruffles Niall’s hair and places a kiss on his forehead. The whole exchange is sweeter than Louis wants to acknowledge. “You ready, Lou?”

Louis feels weird at the nickname. Not necessarily bad, just…weird. He feels equally weird watching this loud, teasing, overly confident person do something as thoughtful and caring as look after his drunk friend.

“Uh…yeah. I mean, you really don’t have to do this. I know the way. I’m not scared of the dark, you know.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re not.” Harry says, his voice gone deep and syrupy. His smile fades and his eyes feel like they’re boring into Louis’s. “And I know I don’t have to…I just want to. Is that ok?”

Louis’s limbs feel as if they’ve filled with molasses. “Um…yeah. Yes. I—” Louis’s suddenly feeling every last drop of alcohol he’s consumed tonight, and regretting every bit of it. “Let’s go. I’m exhausted.”

Harry smiles just enough to make the ghost of a dimple appear on his cheek. He gestures to the door. “After you.”

* * *

Despite the sky full of stars (something Louis never sees at home) the night is pitch black, with only a sliver of a moon peeking out from behind the tall pine trees. Harry clearly feels way more comfortable with both the dark and Louis’s proximity than Louis does, as evidenced by the fact that he’s whistling. He’s got his hands tucked in his shorts pockets and he’s walking along in a way that can only be described as jaunty. Louis rolls his eyes freely. It’s so fucking dark, there’s no way Harry can see him.

“So, uh...” Louis’s not sure what to say.

“How long are you here for?” Harry interrupts him.

“Oh, uh...two weeks,” he answers. “You?”

“Alllll summer. I grew up here. This is my town.”

“Huh. I guess that explains why you seem to be able to see in the dark.”

“Ha! I guess you’re right. It’s one of my super powers.” Harry chuckles and puffs out his chest.

“Only one of…wow, I’m walking with greatness here.”

“Yep, night vision,” he holds up a hand and ticks off on his fingers, “I mean, you know I’m constantly saving lives, seeing as I _am _a lifeguard. And uh…well, the last one is probably not appropriate for mixed company.”

“Mixed company? What are you talking about?”

“Oh no, not that…I meant townies and tourists. I can’t reveal all my secrets to an outsider.”

“Ah.” Again, secret eye roll. “I suppose that’s fair.”

“So, two weeks, huh? Will you be spending a lot of that on the beach?”

“Yup…If my mom has anything to say about it we will be spending roughly _all_ of our time on the beach.”

“Well then, you and I will be seeing a lot of each other. I work almost every day.” Even in the near total darkness, Louis can practically _hear_ Harry’s eyebrow waggling. “Hopefully you’ll learn to follow the rules a bit better before the trip is up. Too many infractions and you’re gonna face serious punishment.”

“Hmm. I can imagine.” Louis doesn’t love where this is going. “Just lay off on the megaphone next time, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, Louis. I mind. I mind _very _much. My megaphone is a tool of the trade! You can’t ask me to hamper my life-saving abilities in that way. That’s like asking a lumberjack to lay down their axe! Or Lady Gaga to throw away her meat suit! It’s just not done.”

“I’m pretty sure that meat suit was thrown out long ago, seeing as she wore it in 2010.”

“Point still stands. Don’t try to get between me and my superpowers, Tomlinson. I don’t want to find out you’re my kryptonite or anything.” 

“No, we wouldn’t want that.” They’ve reached the screen door of Louis’s house and finally Louis can see, with the aid of the porch light his mom left on for him. The rest of the house is dark. Louis can see Harry’s face clearly but he has no idea how to read it, not to mention what to say to end this conversation. Harry seems like he has more to say, or like he’s waiting for Louis to ask him something. Or maybe Louis’s just really, really drunk. That seems most likely.

“Ok then…thanks. For the uh…company.” Louis stammers. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

Harry smiles, both dimples unlocked. Louis swears he glances down at his lips for a moment, then back up at his eyes.

“Tomorrow!” Harry gives a small salute as he steps off the porch. “Have a good night, Tomlinson.”

Louis watches him walk off into the enveloping darkness, feeling the same empty relief he felt earlier that night.

“Wait,” Louis calls out, “where do _you_ live? Why is it ok for you to walk home alone in the dark but not me?”

Harry doesn’t stop but turns to face Louis and continues walking backwards. “I told you, Tomlinson. Night vision. It’s one of my superpowers!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU to [maevewren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maevewren/pseuds/maevewren), my wonderful beta and friend.

Louis is hungover. Like, head being stomped by an elephant, mouth tasting like spoiled yogurt, stomach feeling post-28th turn on the tilt-a-whirl hungover. Mercifully, Emily and Nora, his roommates, are still sleeping. He has no doubt they would have pounced on him had they woken up to find him in bed. They were quite jealous he got to go out and they didn’t. They will surely have no sympathy for his current condition.

Daylight is leaking in around the edges of the curtains. He watches dust motes float through a sunbeam as his eyes adjust to being open. He tries to steady his stomach enough to roll out of bed without puking right there on the floor. He thinks back to the night before. Who can he blame for his current predicament? Certainly not himself. There’s obviously Niall, who roped him into that godforsaken game. But he must be feeling far worse than Louis this morning, so Louis can cut him some slack. So really it’s Harry’s fault. Louis’s not entirely sure why, but blaming Harry just feels right. It might have something to do with the fact Louis is pretty sure a small part of his nausea can be attributed to Harry’s teasing attention last night. Not much, but some of it for sure. Maybe seven percent? Twelve max. Ok, fifteen. He sets Louis on edge. Rather than allowing Louis to hang back, near-friendless and crabby, Harry’s constant ribbing shines a spotlight on him. It draws other people’s notice. Everyone’s watching Harry, so when Harry’s watching Louis, some of that attention is diverted his way. Louis doesn’t like it. He also doesn’t like how self-assured Harry is. He’s just so confident, Louis can’t help but interpret it as arrogance. So composed and comfortable in his own skin. So sure of who he is and his ability to make friends, assuming everyone in the room is going to be happy to see him. To be fair, that did seem to be true last night. Louis didn’t notice a single person at that party who didn’t seem to shine a little brighter when Harry’s gaze was focused upon them. Well, not a single person other than Louis, that is. Louis feels like he withers under Harry’s attention. No, that’s not right. Louis’s tougher than that. To wither would imply he’s damaged beyond repair. It’s more like he closes up, protecting himself, like a flower at night. Or a clam. Yeah, Louis’s probably more of a clam than a flower.

A buzzing noise stirs him from his thoughts of bivalves. He has a text from Niall. Jesus, Louis doesn’t even remember giving away his number.

_fuckk lois am dyinnng_

That sounds about right. Louis tells him he’ll bring some ibuprofen and coffee when he heads down to the beach. But before he can do that, he needs to wrest control over his own mortality.

He listens closely to the noises coming from the rest of the house. His parents are probably in the kitchen drinking coffee. He thinks he can hear cartoons on the tv downstairs. Emily and Nora are still softly snoring away in their bunk beds. He’s fairly certain the upstairs bathroom is unoccupied. Ok, he thinks to himself, you can do this, Louis. He takes a shaky breath and lurches out of bed, stumbling out into the hallway and into the bathroom. He makes it to the toilet without waking his potential tormentors and promptly pukes his brains out. Double success.

He turns the shower on and settles on the bathroom floor with a wet washcloth, just as his sisters come pounding on the door.

“Fuck off,” Louis croaks out. Though he’s still firmly onboard with blaming his predicament on Harry, he can’t help but spare a thought for his mom. It’s her fault he went to that party, isn’t it? Hell, it’s her fault he’s here in New Hampshire at all. This vacation is turning out to be even more shit than he’d originally thought.

* * *

As expected, Louis and family end up back at the beach. Second verse, same as the first. Maybe not any louder but definitely worse. Louis makes a quick stop in the clubhouse to make sure Niall hasn’t died since he last texted. He hasn’t. Louis delivers a thermos of coffee and a bottle of Advil along with a promise to check back in on him later, then heads off to find a shady patch of sand up by the trees (and preferably out of view of the lifeguard stand). He spreads out a towel and cautiously scans the beach. No butterfly tattoo. No golden skin. No sexy man bun. Good. No sign of Harry. Yet. He’ll just be back here, all clammed up, preparing for the inevitable teasing that is sure to be coming his way when Harry does arrive.

Fuck, Louis’s head hurts.

He stretches out on his towel and falls asleep.

* * *

“LOUIS TOMLINSON.

“LOUIS.

“TOMLINSON.

“LEWIS.

“LOU.

“LOUIS TOMLINSON, YOUR PRESENCE IS REQUESTED AT THE, _oh, don’t give me that look, Becca, I just need it for one more sec—”_

Louis awakes to find that the sun has inconsiderately changed positions and the lower half of his body is no longer in shade. Fuck. In his hungover haze he definitely neglected to apply sunblock. He can already tell his legs are going to be burnt.

He digs through his mother’s beach bag and finds a tube of SPF 50. As he’s rubbing it into his legs, he scans the beach for his parents and siblings. He spots his mom and dad, strolling hand-in-hand down the beach. Emily and Nora are lying out on the raft, but the younger kids are nowhere to be seen. He begins to feel a little queasy, and he doesn’t think he can blame it on the alcohol. They have to be around somewhere. His parents would have noticed if they disappeared. Surely. Right? Just to be certain, he heads off toward the water, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun, scouring the crowds for his siblings.

“Finally!” someone calls to him. Not someone; he knows who. It’s Harry.

“I was trying to get your attention but _somebody_ made me give back the megaphone,” Harry says while squinting one eye and pursing his lips at the woman on the lifeguard stand.

“Oh— uh, hi. Hello, Harry,” Louis stammers. In his eagerness to find his family, he forgot to take proper Harry-shielding precautionary measures. Now, he’s confronted with the full force of Harry’s beauty and it’s caught him off-guard. He does his best to collect his cool. “You seem awfully chipper today. I, on the other hand, am hungover as fuck and have lost half my family.”

“Ah! Louis, you swore!” a high-pitched voice squeals. Louis looks behind himself, confused.

“That’s why I was calling you!” Harry says. “We wanted to show you something.” He wraps a hand around Louis’s bicep and turns him gently to the left. Harry’s touch gives Louis goosebumps.Shit, he can probably feel them, Louis thinks. He awkwardly pulls his arm free, then looks where Harry is pointing.

Without noticing, he had walked right past a giant hole in the sand, just behind the lifeguard stand. Sitting in the hole and giggling among themselves are his missing siblings, Andrew, Lucas and Julia.

“Geez, you all scared me! Do Mom and Dad know where you are?”

“We were pretty busy digging the hole, so I told them to take a walk and I’d watch the kids,” Harry says.

“Oh,” Louis says. That’s…sweet.

“You were sleeping, so we’re playing with Harry!” Julia shouts.

“We could hear you snoring from all the way down here,” Lucas chimes in. He and Andrew dissolve into a fit of laughter.

Harry presses his fingers to his mouth, doing a shit job of suppressing a grin. Louis feels his face flush as red as his sunburnt legs. At least now he’s all one color.

“Aren’t you supposed to be saving lives?” He narrows his eyes at Harry.

“I’m on a break,” Harry shrugs. “Thought your siblings could use my superior digging skills.”

“Let me guess: that’s your secret superpower, digging holes.”

Harry looks confused for a minute before the memory of their conversation last night comes back to him. He waggles an index finger at Louis.

“Nice try there, Louis. I told you, that’s privileged information. And no, digging is not my superpower, just one of my special talents.”

“Well if that’s not it, surely it’s an immunity to hangovers.” Louis presses his fingers to his temple. “I don’t know how you’re not feeling like s-h-i-t this morning.”

“We’re not babies, Louis, we know how to spell!” Andrew calls out from the hole.

“Aw, you all need to take it easy on your brother,” Harry says with a sympathetic pout. “He’s not used to the way we do things around here. I’ve had a lifetime’s worth of summers to build up my tolerance.”

“I mean, I did go to college,” Louis protests. “I’m not a total lightweight.”

“Well, if you're feeling any better tonight you should come out again.” Harry crosses his arms over his chest and raises his chin. His smile feels like a challenge. “We’re building a bonfire on the beach. And I promise there will be at least 30% fewer drinking games.”

“Only 30% fewer?”

“I mean, we're not animals,” Harry laughs. “But I’ll make a deal with you! Come out tonight and I will grant you full immunity, no matter how many games are played.”

“I don’t know…” Louis runs a hand through his hair as he digs his toes into the sand. Hangover aside, he doesn’t relish the thought of another evening spent as the focus of Harry’s attentions. “I think I may need to take the night off.”

Louis swears he sees a flicker of disappointment cross Harry’s face. He’s probably just bummed that he’ll have to find someone else to humiliate.

“Ok, well…if you change your mind, I’ll be here. I mean, I’ll be there.” He points to a fire pit at the far end of the beach. “Er, uh…I mean, WE’LL be there.” Why does he seem so awkward all of sudden?

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Louis says. “Come on guys, let’s catch up to Mom and Dad.” His siblings clamor out of their hole. Harry gives each of them a different type of high-five as they pass. The awkwardness did not last long.

“Nice work today, crew,” he says with a salute. “Tomorrow, we move on to sandcastles.”

Louis gives him a small wave and turns to direct everyone toward their parents. They don’t make it more than 20 paces before Louis hears a blip of feedback from the megaphone.

“THINK ABOUT TONIGHT! I REALLY HOPE TO SEE YOU THERE. WE CAN— _Becca, come on! I’m only—”_

Louis closes his eyes with a sigh and gently shakes his head. He can’t reward the behavior by turning around but he does toss a thumbs-up over his shoulder. After all, Harry did spend his break entertaining Louis’s siblings. Maybe he’s not all bad. It’s not enough to make Louis want to hang out with him tonight, but still.

* * *

Louis returns to his towel and phone a while later to find a text from Niall.

_Ok man gonna boot n rally…fire pit on the beach 2nite!!!!!!!!’!! Yer comin i won’t take no for an answer!!_

Well there’s that decided, then. Louis thinks he better get in another nap. After he applies more sunblock.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More drinking, but everyone shows much more restraint this time, even Niall. 
> 
> Also: SKINNY DIPPING
> 
> Big giant thank you to my wonderful friend and beta maevewren for all of her help!

“Niall, you have plenty of friends,” Louis protests. “I don’t know why I have to go to this thing.” He’s following Niall down the staircase to the beach and trying not to let the twinkling of fireflies among the trees infiltrate his sour mood. It’s a struggle though. They’re just so damn magical.

“Allowing you to stay home goes against my code of ethics,” Niall responds. “‘Party with others as you would have others party with you.’ Those are words to live by!”

“If you say so,” Louis grumbles. “I just need you to remember I’m not getting roped into any games tonight. Harry even promised me game immunity.”

“You talked to Harry today, huh?” Niall asks, eyebrows raised.

“Well, yes. Don’t have much of a choice, do I? He— what’s that look for?”

“Oh, nothing,” Niall says, trying to sound nonchalant, “I just think he likes you, is all.”

Louis freezes on the third to last step. “Bullshit.”

“What?” Niall looks up at Louis from down on the sand. “You don’t think so?”

“No,” Louis scoffs, “I most certainly do not. He has done nothing but take the piss since he first laid eyes on me.”

“Well, yeah. That’s what I mean. That’s how I know.”

Louis continues down the stairs and rejoins Niall. “I think you’re wrong, but even if you’re not, that’s a pretty shitty way to treat someone you like. Haven’t we moved past the whole ‘he’s teasing you because he likes you’ thing? Or did I miss the sign that said New Hampshire hasn’t socially progressed past the 1980’s?”

“Oh, come on! Is he really that bad?”

“Honestly?” Louis presses a finger to his lips in thought. “Yes. He keeps yelling at me with a megaphone.”

“Ha!” This delights Niall. “Damn it, I wish I was there to see that.”

“Well, swing by the beach tomorrow. I can’t imagine he’s about to stop anytime soon.” They’re approaching a group of people gathered around the fire pit. “But I don’t think that means what you think it means. Now shut up about it, please. I don’t need anyone overhearing this conversation.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Niall grabs Louis by the back of his neck. “Ok. Hair of the dog. Where’s the beer?”

There are fewer people here tonight than at the party last night, but it’s still a decent sized crowd and Louis’s pretty certain he’s met them all already. The fire in the fire pit is blazing and there are logs for sitting arranged around it. Instead of the folding table of booze and keg of the clubhouse, there are a few cases of Miller Lite and Natural Ice. Louis wrinkles his nose at the beer selection but grabs a can anyway. He has taste, but he’s not a snob. He settles in by the fire, content to sit quietly and observe. He’s not thrilled to be attending another party, but if he has to, this is a pretty great way to do it.

Louis works his way through two more beers, making small talk with a handful of people he met last night. Zayn and Liam show up together and sit down with Louis for a while. (Louis wonders if there’s something going on between them.) Niall somehow gets his hands on a guitar and takes a seat across the fire pit from Louis to play every ’90’s hit he can think of. As long as he skips _Zombie_ tonight, Louis thinks.

He’s about to go get himself yet another drink when one magically appears over his shoulder.

“Harry!” Niall calls over the fire. “Any requests?” Louis takes the proffered beer.

“Not _Zombie,_” Harry says with wide eyes.

“Come on!” Niall is disbelieving. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“What do you think, Louis?” Harry holds onto Louis’s shoulder for balance as he steps over the log to sit down beside him. When he takes his hand away, Louis feels it again: absence and relief. Harry is looking at him expectantly, and he’s not sure why.

“What was the question?” He blinks, confusedly.

“I asked what you thought of Niall’s all-_Zombie_ Cranberries tribute concert last night,” Harry says. Louis thinks he can see a knowing glint in his eye. Maybe it’s just the fire. He chooses to ignore it, and turns to Niall.

“Sorry, Niall. It was fucking terrible.”

“Ha!” Harry throws his head back and does that same sexy horse laugh that Louis watched him do last night. Something swells in his chest, pleasure at eliciting such a response.

“I hate you both, you know,” Niall mumbles. He starts in on _Torn_ by Natalie Imbruglia.

“Thanks for this.” Louis holds up the beer, waiting for Harry to do the same with his own can.

“Yeah, of course.” He taps their drinks together. “Cheers.”

“I didn’t know you were here,” Louis says, eyes focused on the fire. “It’s been so quiet!”

“Well, aren’t you the funny one tonight.” Harry turns to face him. “I’ll have you know, I _wasn’t _here. I just arrived. Didn’t really see the point in rushing over.”

“And why’s that?” Louis asks. “Don’t want to keep your adoring public waiting, do you?”

“Didn’t think you were coming out tonight.”

“I—” Louis stammers, “wait— do you think _I _am your adoring public? Because that is not what I—”

Harry’s laughing at Louis’s fluster. “Don’t worry, Lou. I am under _no_ illusion that you adore me in _any_ way. None whatsoever.”

“Oh,” Louis says, “that’s—good.” He hasn’t quite regained composure.

Harry nods at someone away from the fire, smiles and waves. He turns back to Louis and puts his hand on his shoulder.

“Will you excuse me?”

“Yeah, of course. I—” but Harry’s off. Louis feels inexplicably let down. He looks across the fire to see Niall grinning at him with his eyebrows raised.

“Oh, shut up, Niall.”

* * *

As it turns out, Harry was wrong. As far as Louis can tell, there are zero drinking games happening on the beach tonight. Instead, there’s a lot of off-key singing and sloppy dancing and general beer-fueled merriment. The air is muggy, holding onto the heat of the day, and the smell of fire permeates the atmosphere. Louis feels pleasantly lightheaded and tipsy. It helps that Harry has backed off the teasing tonight. In fact, he’s barely acknowledged Louis at all since he first arrived. Louis’s still got an eye on him though, watching as he makes his rounds through the party, quieter tonight but still the center of attention no matter which conversation he joins. Louis feels on edge. He doesn't trust Harry not to refocus on him later. His one consolation is that the party appears to be megaphone free.

After Niall has exhausted his catalog of ’90’s pop songs, he and Louis join Liam and Zayn at the edge of the lake, sitting on the sand, feet in the water. Liam is now regaling them all with tales from the local fire department. Louis is impressed to learn Liam is a firefighter. Zayn is listening to each story with rapt attention (though Louis gets the feeling he's heard them all before). Niall keeps insisting that Liam does little more dangerous than rescue kittens from trees.

“Don't get me wrong, Li, I'm sure those kittens get to some pretty high branches. The heights must be terrifying!”

“Niall, how many times a day do you get told to fuck right off?” Liam gives him the finger.

“Don't listen to him,” Zayn says as he wraps his arms around Liam's (not insignificant) bicep and rests his chin on his shoulder. “I think you're incredibly brave.” Even in the moonlight, Louis can see Liam’s face flush. Definitely something going on between them.

“Gentlemen!” a deep voice booms from behind them. “I think you know what time it is!”

“Oh shit!” Niall jumps to his feet, clearly excited, and starts to fumble with the buttons on his shirt.

“What is it?” Louis looks from Niall to Zayn and Liam. “What’s happening?”

Niall is just giggling and struggling to get his shirt off. Zayn is covering his eyes and hiding his face against Liam’s upper arm. Only Liam will look Louis in the eye. His brows raised and his lips pursed, he points a tentative index finger behind Louis.

“What is—” Louis turns to see a white flash as a naked Harry runs past him into the water.

“Wait up, Harry!” Niall has defeated his shirt and is now lying on the sand, trying to get out of his shorts.

“By the look on your face, I’m guessing nobody warned you,” Liam laughs. “Harry’s been known to initiate a little bit of skinny dipping every now and then.”

“Every now and then…every single fucking time his drunk ass comes to the lake after dark…” Zayn says, sarcastically. “Either one.”

They all avert their eyes as Niall finally wriggles his way out of his underwear and stumbles into the lake. His giggles have morphed into guffaws. He splashes in a few steps before face planting into the water.

“Liam! Zayn! Louis!” Harry shouts. “Get in here!”

Liam shakes his head. “Sorry man, not tonight!”

“If Liam’s out, I’m out,” Zayn puts his hands up.

“You guys!” Harry makes a frustrated moan, then dodges Niall’s attempt to pull him underwater. “Louis, _please._ You’re my only hope!”

Louis gulps. His heart has dropped down into his stomach, like, all the way down, and now it’s being digested. He didn’t get a clear view of anything as Harry rushed by but just knowing that he’s out there in the water, completely nude, is a bit much for Louis to handle. He shouldn’t be surprised. This party has been so civilized and Harry has been so subdued. He’s obviously been saving up all of his shenanigans and they have to burst free somehow. Well, they just did. Shenanigans burst right out of Harry’s pants and into the lake. Louis may not survive this.

“I don’t think so…” he says, unsure and way too quiet.

“Come on, Louis!” Niall calls. “Get that ass in here! Getting drunk and skinny dipping is like, Lake Winnipesaukee tradition! If you don’t do it, you’ll never truly be one of us!”

Harry laughs and splashes Niall right in the face. In return, Niall has another go at dunking Harry. This time, he succeeds.

“He’s not wrong,” Liam says with a shrug. “It’s sort of an unofficial rite of initiation. We’ve all done it.”

“I’m just trying to decide if I actually want to be initiated.” Louis watches Harry emerge from the water and flip his long hair up over his head, Little Mermaid-style. Niall immediately tries to force him back under, but Harry’s too fast for him.

“Last chance, Tomlinson! Last one to the raft buys beer for the rest of the week.” Harry dives under the surface and sets off toward the middle of the lake. Niall follows with a pretty pathetic dog paddle.

“Aw, fuck it,” Louis says, already pulling his t-shirt over his head. He’s not one to turn down a challenge. He takes one last swig of beer, drops his shorts and throws them in Zayn’s direction. “Hold these,” he says, and splashes after Harry and Niall.

The water is cool but he dives in, not wanting to give anyone too much of a show. He kicks hard to catch up to Harry and Niall, who are a third of the way to the raft.

“Yes!” Niall whoops when he sees Louis. Harry turns and treads water at the sound. “That’a boy, Louis!” Niall briefly dips below the surface and accidentally gulps in a lungful of water. He sputters and coughs as he emerges.

“You okay there, Nialler?” Harry says with concern in his voice.

“Yeah,” Niall spits. “I’m fine. Think I’m a bit too tipsy for swimming, though. Best to not risk drowning tonight. You two go on without me.” With that, he turns back toward shore.

“He’s got a point,” Louis calls to Harry. He’s hesitant to swim too close. Fifteen feet of dark lake water between their naked bodies feels like a reasonable buffer. “This doesn’t seem very safe, swimming out this far, this late at night, drunk.”

“You’re getting it, Lou! The danger. That’s what makes it fun!” Now that Harry sees Niall has reached a point where he can stand, he turns back toward the raft, doing a slow breaststroke. Louis swims to catch up with him, careful to keep a distance between them.

“But—” He’s finally on pace with Harry and starts to mimic his breaststroke. “You don’t know how drunk I am…you don’t know how strong a swimmer I am!”

Harry flips over and swims backwards for a few yards. It’s hard for Louis to tell for sure, but he thinks Harry’s giving him an incredulous look.

“Louis, I’ve watched you swim. I’ve watched you swim out to this raft. You can handle it. And if you’re too drunk, well…I’ll be here to save you.” He gives Louis a wink, then flips back around and kicks as hard as he can, splashing Louis and making him pause for a moment to wipe his eyes.

By the time Louis begins swimming again, Harry has reached the raft and is climbing out of the water. Louis wants to look away, but the sight of Harry’s body has caught his eye and he finds himself frozen. The moonlight catches on the water running down Harry’s skin, blue in the near dark. His shoulders are broad and look incredibly strong. His backside is gleaming and Louis stops breathing for a moment when he sees the way it tightens and shifts as Harry ascends the ladder. Louis lowers his mouth below the surface of the water and exhales. This was a bad idea.

“Hurry up!” Harry bellows as he flops down onto the AstroTurf. There’s no turning back now, Louis tells himself.

When Louis reaches the bottom of the ladder he stops for a moment to tread water and attempt to calm himself. Is “gird your loins” an appropriate phrase to use in this situation? he wonders. He’s not exactly sure what girding is, but he knows he’s got to do something to his loins before he climbs that ladder.

“Louis!” Harry’s head pops out over the edge of the raft. His hair hangs down around his face in sopping hanks, dripping water into Louis eyes. ”What’s happening down there? You can’t tread water all night! Are you feeling shy? I promise, I’ll keep my distance and avert my gaze. Your virtue shall remain intact!” he says with a palm raised toward the sky.

“Oh, shut up,” Louis says as he attempts to douse Harry. Of course, Harry’s too fast and ducks back onto the raft.

Clinging to the bottom of the ladder, Louis tries to take a calming breath. Yes, he tells himself, Harry is hot, but Harry is also a pain in the ass. Remember that. Let your annoyance be your guide.

As he climbs the ladder, Louis sees Harry is sitting on the far side of the raft. His legs are drawn up and his arms are crossed and resting on his knees. He is, true to his word, looking out across the water, his back to Louis.

Louis steps onto the raft and awkwardly covers himself with his hands, but Harry doesn’t turn around. Louis shuffles over and sits catty corner to Harry, on the edge of the raft. When he turns his head to the right, he can just see Harry’s face in profile.

“It’s about time,” Harry says, his tone softer than before. “Was getting worried you were going to need rescuing. The last thing I want to do tonight is give you mouth to mouth.”

Louis gives him an quizzical look.

When Harry notices Louis’s expression, he lets a small puff of air out through his nose and closes his eyes. It’s the tiniest little laugh, the polar opposite to the horsey bray that Louis expects from him.

“You’re making me think swimming out here was more risky than I was led to believe. Can a drunk lifeguard really guard lives at all? Besides, aren’t you powerless without your megaphone?”

“Well, you’ve got me there. I feel more naked without my megaphone than I do without my clothes.” Harry points an index finger in Louis’s direction. “But don’t worry, despite what I said earlier, I’m not drunk.”

“Bullshit,” Louis scoffs.

“I’m not! I never drink much when we’re out on the beach like this. I kind of think it’s my responsibility to keep an eye on everyone. Things can get pretty out of hand.”

“Harry, I saw you drinking earlier. And besides, you’d have me believe you’d dive into this cold ass lake buck naked when you’re totally sober? No way!”

“It’s true! I’ve only had, like, half a beer. And the only reason I drank that was so that I could ‘cheers’ you.”

Oh, Louis thinks, that’s interesting. “And the sober skinny dipping?”

“What can I say? I like the shock to my system. It feels good! Don’t you agree?”

Louis doesn’t want to say so, but, it really does, though _he_ is not entirely sober. Now that he’s out here in the middle of the lake, though, he’ll admit swimming naked through the cool, black water felt peaceful and calming, not crazy and reckless like he’d originally thought. Ignoring the sexy man sitting just five feet from him who’s making his brain a bit fuzzy, he actually feels better than he has in a long time. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with the damp night air, just a whiff of smoke from the campfire making its way out to the raft.

“You surprise me,” Louis says. He looks to his right. Harry's eyes are unfocused. There are still a few droplets of water on his cheekbones, reflecting the moonlight. Christ, he's pretty.

“In what way?” Harry turns to meet Louis’s eye.

“What you said earlier, about feeling responsible for everyone's safety. I had you pegged as more the life-of-the-party, not the chaperone.”

Harry gives a small smile, but looks away. “Chaperone seems a bit harsh.”

“Ok, not chaperone then, how about den mother?”

“Ha! No.”

“Safety monitor?”

Harry shakes his head and chuckles. The tables have turned. Louis likes it.

“How about concerned-friend-who-doesn't-want-anyone-to-drown-in-the-lake?” He looks back up at Louis.

“I guess I can allow that.” Louis nods. “Still, it’s unexpected. Last night you were like god’s gift to the party. Self-anointed, of course, but…” Louis trails off.

“Huh. If you think it’s unexpected, well…” he lets out a tiny sigh and looks down. His fingers are picking at the blades of fake grass. “I guess you don’t really know me yet, do you?” He raises his eyes to meet Louis’s again; his top lip is pulled between his teeth. Louis thinks he sees something melancholy pass across Harry’s face.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. The AstroTurf is making my ass itch.” He swiftly stands up and dives into the water. Louis is taken aback by the change in tone. His evening has gone from wild beach party to quiet reflection on the lake to— what? He gets the sense that he’s said something wrong.

“Let’s go, Tomlinson.” Harry has swum around the raft and is headed back toward the beach. “I’m not leaving you out here. Can’t have you drowning on my watch.”

Louis pushes forward and lets himself drop into the water. He follows Harry back to shore, again, keeping his distance. When he reaches the sand, he’s relieved to find his clothes right where he left them. By the time he’s dressed, Harry is nowhere to be seen.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big giant thank you to my wonderful friend and beta maevewren for all of her help!

Louis wakes up the next day, pleased with himself for having had a modicum of restraint in regards to the beer last night, but still with an unpleasant feeling in his stomach. Yet again, he connects the queasiness to Harry, but this time he thinks he only has himself to blame. There was a definite change in Harry’s demeanor over the course of the evening. Louis can’t help but feel that had something to do with him, but he can’t say what. Nor can he pinpoint why it’s even bothering him. In the two days he’s known Harry, he’s done little more than pester Louis. Well no, Louis thinks, that’s not fair. It was kind of Harry to spend time with Louis’s siblings. He really didn’t have to do that. And he was sort of mellow last night, at least for part of the time. Louis finds his lips turning up slightly at the memory of sitting beside Harry on the raft, feeling so peaceful and centered. He assumes he will see Harry at the beach again today. If he’s not back to his obnoxious, megaphone wielding self, Louis will reexamine his unease.

Aside from that, Louis decides to do his best to cling to those nice feelings from last night. Vacation approval ratings: trending upwards.

* * *

Harry is at the beach when Louis and family arrive. He’s perched atop the lifeguard stand, in full Harry regalia: practically too short red shorts, whistle around his neck, hair pulled up in a bun, silk scarf holding back the wispy curls that are trying to escape, tattooed chest and arms on full display. He glances over and gives Louis a small nod and a tiny wave. Louis can’t quite read his expression when his eyes are hidden behind dark sunglasses. The megaphone remains untouched on the bench next to him. That's interesting. Perhaps what Louis told Niall was wrong; maybe Harry will restrain himself today.

Louis passes the morning reading and dozing on a beach towel. Well, trying to read and doze. He finds himself distracted by Harry’s presence and can’t help but surreptitiously glance at the lifeguard stand, more frequently than he’d like to admit. The change in Harry’s treatment of him compared to the last two days is oddly unsettling. As much as he disliked being squawked at with the megaphone for the entire beach to hear, he can’t deny that having Harry’s attention felt kind of good. He misses it. Maybe Harry’s just having a bad day. Who knows, maybe this is the way Harry regularly behaves. Louis’s only met him three days ago. Maybe bright, sunny, center-of-attention Harry is the anomaly. After much thought (way too much thought), Louis decides that this must be the case and that for the sake of his own mental (and his vacation’s) well-being, he needs to stop thinking about Harry. Well, try to stop, at the very least.

From behind his book and his Ray Bans, Louis watches as Harry descends the lifeguard stand when it’s time for his break. His relief, the eternally rule-following Becca, has arrived and takes his place. Harry exchanges a few words with Becca, while stretching his arms above his head and arching his upper body to the left, then to the right. Jesus Christ, Louis thinks, he’s getting an eyeful. He’s waiting with bated breath, a part of him that he’s not willing to acknowledge hoping that Harry will look his way—that he’ll come talk to him. Harry lowers his arms and for a brief second, Louis thinks it’s happening; Harry turns toward the Tomlinson camp. But just as quickly, he turns back toward Becca, gives her a thumbs up and heads off in the direction of the clubhouse. Damn it. Louis doesn’t want to be disappointed by this.

It’s fine, he tells himself. Harry was obnoxious, Louis should be relieved to no longer be his focus. He tosses his book down without marking his page and takes off for the water.

Out on the raft, Louis’s having a hard time recapturing his pleasant mood from last night. The more he thinks about it, the less he’s concerned that he somehow caused the change in Harry and the more he’s feeling like Harry has decided to snub him. Well, fuck that. Curly-haired prick. Louis is even more annoyed that he’s thinking about Harry at all. Why does he care? He doesn’t have to hang out with Harry if he doesn’t want to. In fact, he’s already had a text from Niall this morning about some house party the next town over. He was invited by a friend from college, it will be a completely different crowd. He’s really, truly, actually done dwelling on Harry. Starting…now.

Easier said than done though. Next in line behind unpleasant Harry thoughts are even more unpleasant thoughts about life and work and blech. Nothing. He’s going to think about nothing. He’s going to lie on this scratchy, sun-bleached AstroTurf, listen to the slap of the water and the buzzing of motorboats, and think about absolutely nothing. He falls asleep.

* * *

When Louis awakes, his mind is pleasantly empty…for about 17 seconds. He returns to shore to see that Harry is making good on his promise to build sandcastles with Louis’s younger siblings. He’s got Lucas and Julia lugging buckets full of water up from the lake to the patch of sand in front of their parents beach chairs. Andrew is diligently mixing the water with sand to create the perfect building medium and Harry has already guided them in constructing a solid foundation that’s almost as tall as Julia. He’s even brought a bucketful of wooden tools for smoothing and shaping the sand.

“Well, well, well!” Louis says as he wipes water from his eyes. “This looks like quite the operation.”

“Harry’s teaching us!” Julia squeals.

“Harry must be some sort of sandcastle expert.” Louis looks in Harry’s direction but he’s having a quiet conversation with Louis’s parents. What’s that about, Louis wonders. He grabs a towel off the back of a chair and rubs it against his hair. Harry looks up at him, briefly, then turns back to Geoff and Kate.

“Will you help us, Louis?” Andrew draws Louis’s attention away from Harry and gives him a plaintive look.

“Yeah, of course!” Louis tosses his towel aside and sits down next to him. “What’s next Harry? Where should I start?”

Harry looks unsure of what to say. He scratches his head and purses his lips. After an uncomfortably long pause he cuts his eyes to the side and then down at his watch.

“You know what…” he finally says, “I have to get back soon. My break is almost over.”

“Oh…” Louis is pretty sure he’s got at least 20 minutes left before he needs to relieves Becca. “Ok, well we’ll just—”

“You guys got this?” Harry addresses the kids. “You can hang on to my tools, ok?”

“Yeah!” they give a shout. Lucas leaps up and does a little jig, moved to dance by his new found skills.

Harry leans in and slaps hands with all of them and says, quietly, behind his hand, (almost as if he doesn’t want Louis to hear), “I’ll see you all tonight.”

“What?” Louis asks, startled. Harry is already walking away toward the clubhouse. He doesn’t hear Louis’s question, or at least pretends he doesn’t.

“Why will Harry see you tonight?” Louis asks his siblings.

“He’s coming over,” Andrew says, matter-of-factly.

“He’s coming over? What—why?”

“Harry offered to babysit tonight,” Kate has joined them and rests a hand on Louis’s shoulder. “Your dad and I wanted to go out to dinner, Emily and Nora are going to the movies and I assumed you’d be going out with your new friends.”

“I mean I was going to, but I can stay in…Mom, are you sure you can trust him? We barely know him!”

“Oh, relax, Louis. He’s a certified lifeguard and everyone in this town knows him and loves him. He’s more qualified that you are!”

“Hey!”

“I’m joking. If you really want to babysit, I’m sure Harry wouldn’t mind the company, but I’m not going to cancel on him when I’ve just asked.”

“No, thank you. I guess I just feel bad. I really would have been happy to do it.”

“I know you would, Sweetheart.” Kate leans over and kisses the top of his head. “But I want you to enjoy your time here as well.”

“Thanks, mom.” She goes back to her beach chair. Louis’s siblings continue to bustle around him, building their castle, but he just sits in thought, eyes trained on the clubhouse.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big giant thank you to my wonderful friend and beta maevewren for all of her help!

Harry is mobbed the second he walks through the door. Andrew, Lucas and Julia have been asking after him every 30 seconds and watching out the windows for his arrival. Louis does his best to ignore the voice in his head wondering why they’re never this excited to see him. It’s because you live with them, jackass, they see you all the time. He grimaces. He’d get his own place if he could.

While Harry is busy fielding hugs and high-fives, Louis stands back in the doorway to the kitchen. He leans against the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his chest, watching the scene play out. Harry is wide eyed and animated as he greets the kids. His energy level quite possibly surpasses theirs. Louis suppresses a smile, poorly he can tell, because when Harry catches his eye he’s clearly pleased by what he sees, recognizing a touch of fondness in Louis’s gaze. Louis quickly shakes himself out of it.

“Harry,” Louis says with a nod, “welcome to our temporary home.”

“Thanks, Louis.” Harry gives him a hesitant smile. His bravado is still MIA, but the awkwardness seems to have dissipated slightly. “I’m glad I could help. Your mom said you had plans tonight?”

“I, uh…” Louis stammers, “Yeah. I mean, kind of. Was going to go to a party with Niall but it doesn’t start until later…I hope that’s not weird, that I’ll be hanging around for a bit?”

“Of course not!” Harry furrows his brow. He looks incredulous. “It’s your house, isn’t it? Besides, I welcome the company. That is, if you want. Obviously you don’t need to hang around with us.”

“Oh, right,” Louis agrees and Harry looks a little crestfallen. “No, I wasn’t— I mean, I will! I—I want to. I mean, I don’t mind.”

“Oh,” Harry nods, smiling but unsure, “good.”

“Harry! You’re here!” Kate comes bustling into the hallway. “Thank you so much for coming, dear. We really appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure, Kate. Really. Your children are all lovely.” As he says this, his eyes flick up to Louis’s face briefly, but then he immediately refocuses on Kate.

“You’re so sweet.” She turns to Louis, “Isn’t he sweet, Lou?”

“So sweet.” Louis bats his eyes at his mother.

“Anyway, I told them they can watch a movie and then it’s off to bed. They’ve been good and tired every night of this trip so far. The beach really wears them out. Should be an easy night for you.”

“I’m sure we’ll have no problems,” Harry says with a smile as Julia clings to his legs.

“Are we off, then?” Geoff comes up behind Kate.

“I think so! Harry, you have my number if you need anything. We thought we’d go to a movie after dinner, if that’s ok?”

“Totally fine.” Harry follows them to the door, not an easy feat with a five-year-old on his foot. “You both have fun, we’ll be fine!”

“Louis,” Kate says, “are you leaving now?”

“Oh, uh…no,” Louis stutters as all eyes turn to him. “Party’s not ’til later so, uh, I’ll just hang out for a bit.”

“Ok,” she responds, “I’m sure Harry doesn’t mind one additional charge, do you dear?”

Harry just smiles.

“Har har, mom. Goodnight!” He pushes through the mass of children and herds his parents out the door.

“So,” Harry addresses the kids, “did she say something about a movie?”

Harry is no slouch when it comes to babysitting. He gathers up all the blankets and pillows he can find and constructs the perfect movie-watching fort in the living room. He makes sure the kids are all tucked in and cozy, then heads to the kitchen for snacks. Louis has been hanging back, watching Harry work his magic, feeling out of place and wishing it were time to leave already. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, mindlessly scrolling through Twitter, when Harry puts a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

“Sorry I’m being such a creeper,” Louis says. “I’ll get out of your hair soon.”

Harry turns to Louis. “I don’t mind,” he says, then pulls at his lower lip, brows furrowed. “Actually…” He crosses the room and gestures toward the chair opposite Louis with a questioning look on his face. “May I?”

“Yeah, of course,” Louis says, and pushes out the chair with his foot.

Harry sits and folds his hands on the table in front of himself. He looks down at his thumbs, scratching at a cuticle. A lock of hair falls over his eyes. He runs a hand through it, pushing it back, away from his forehead, then tucking it behind his ear. He clears his throat.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” He raises eyes to meet Louis’s and scrunches up his nose.

“Really?” Louis is surprised, then quickly realizes how rude he sounds. “I mean— yeah, what’s up?”

“Um…last night, out on the raft…”

Louis knew it. He knew Harry was annoyed with something he said. Jesus, this guy was sensitive. Louis couldn’t even recall exactly what they’d talked about.

“Hey, man,” Louis says, “if I said something rude, I’m sorry. Honestly, I don’t even remember exactly what was said.”

“No, no—” Harry raises a palm. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t say anything wrong. You just made me realize something _I _said was maybe…” he trails off.

Louis watches him expectantly.

“What I’m trying to say is, I feel bad. I think you’ve gotten the wrong idea about me and it’s my fault.”

Louis is very confused.

“Last night, I realized I’ve maybe come on a bit too strong.”

“Harry, you don’t have to—”

“No, but I want to. I _think_ you kind of think I’m an asshole.”

Louis feels his face flush. He doesn’t know what to say.

Harry laughs. “It’s ok! I guess I kind of was one. I just…look: you’re cute. I wanted to get to know you and I see now that maybe teasing you and embarrassing you with a megaphone was not the best way to do that.”

“Harry, it’s really ok, I swear.” Louis’s stomach does a little flip flop.

“But it’s not ok.” Harry shakes his head. “Because…I still want to get to know you and if I don’t apologize, I don’t think you’ll let me.”

Louis scratches his head and looks down at the table. He’s not used to such blatant honesty.

“Well then…” Louis looks at Harry. “Apology accepted?” He’s not sure what else to say, but hopes that will be enough.

Harry seems to relax a little. “Good. I’m glad.” He bites the inside corner of his mouth and doesn’t look away. Louis huffs out a small laugh and breaks eye contact.

“I think your popcorn’s done.” He gestures to the microwave.

“Oh!” Harry snaps himself out of his daze. He adds the popcorn to a tray of juice boxes, M&M’s and Doritos, and takes the snacks into the living room. Louis follows behind, and takes a seat on the couch.

Once he’s sure his charges are settled, Harry looks from the empty end of the sofa to Louis with raised eyebrows. Louis gestures to the opposite end and gives him a nod. They watch the movie (_Toy Story 3_, of course they would have chosen one that is sure to have Louis weeping) in relative silence, laughing and gasping when appropriate, and keeping their eyes on the screen. Well, most of the time. Louis can’t help but sneak a glance or ten in Harry’s direction, only to be simultaneously annoyed and relieved that Harry is never looking back. He said he wants to get to know me, Louis thinks. He doesn’t want me to think he’s an asshole. That doesn’t mean he’s not actually an asshole, but Louis is willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Harry has his legs pulled up on the couch cushion, his bare feet tucked underneath him. He’s wearing a pair of light-washed cut-off denim shorts and a vintage Debbie Gibson t-shirt. His long brown curls are loose around his shoulders, and he occasionally tips his head forward so they fall in his face, then runs his hand through them to smooth them back. Louis is watching this happen for the third time when he realizes he’s staring. He trains his eyes on the TV and tries to focus on the trials and tribulations of Buzz and Woody. He swears he sees Harry smirk out of the corner of his eye. Deep breath, Tomlinson, he tells himself. Watch the fucking movie.

As expected, Louis tears up not once, but twice. First, at the existential dread he feels as Woody and friends clasp hands while staring their imminent destruction straight in the face, then again when Andy plays with his toys for one last time. He’s having a hard time containing his blubbering, and he’s had to just let the tears flow freely. He hears a loud sniffle from the opposite end of the couch. He looks over to see Harry in a similarly compromising position. Harry meets his eye and, after an uncertain beat, they both burst out laughing.

“Why are you laughing? It’s not funny!” Andrew calls out from the floor.

They can’t stop giggling, while still openly crying, no longer fighting to hold back their tears.

“It’s just so fucking sad!” Louis says with a chuckle. He swipes the back of his hand across his eyes.

“Louis!” the kids all shout in a chorus.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, palms out in contrition. He turns to Harry. “It is though. Gets me every time.”

Harry has gotten his tears under control and just smiles warmly at Louis.

“Ok, I think that’s bedtime, then!” He claps his hands and peeks over the top of the blanket fort. The boys scamper out and up the stairs. Julia has fallen asleep so Harry lifts her gently and follows after them. He pauses in the doorway.

“Don’t you have a party to get to?”

Louis presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and gives one last sniff. “Uh, no—I mean yes, I do but…” He looks at his watch. “It’s only 8:30; I can stick around for a while.” He stands up and gestures toward the stairs with his chin. “Come on, I’ll help get them in bed.”

“Lou, you don’t have to do that. It’s my job.” Harry starts to climb.

Louis’s face goes warm at the nickname. He’s glad Harry has his back to him. “Harry, I’m their brother. It’s been my job for the last 15 years. Besides, if we do it together they’ll be in bed twice as fast.”

Harry gives a quick glance back over his shoulder, clearly pleased with that answer.

* * *

Louis helps Lucas with the toothpaste, then stands in the doorway and listens to Harry tell an elaborate bedtime story involving a pelican and a sea lion who find magical oysters that give them the ability to speak with humans. The kids are enraptured. Louis is too, for that matter, but maybe less with the story and more with the storyteller, though he's loath to admit it.

After saying goodnight for the dozenth time, Harry gently closes the bedroom door and looks at Louis expectantly. Louis gives him a thumbs-up for a job well done and gestures for Harry to lead the way back downstairs.

“Do you want to watch another movie or something? I'll go make some more popcorn,” Louis says as he walks into the kitchen.

“Um…yeah, but—” Harry follows him. “Aren't you leaving?”

“Jesus, Harold! Are you trying to get rid of me?” Louis throws a bag of popcorn in the microwave, then rummages in the fridge for some Cokes. He has a feeling Harry is too responsible to have a beer while he's on the clock.

“No, of course not!” Harry responds. “I just—no, you know what? Never mind! Yes! Let’s watch a movie. Sounds lovely.”

Louis hands him a can of Coke; it almost feels like he’s challenging Harry. Well, if so, the way that Harry beams as he accepts the soda tells Louis he’s up for it.

“Go pick a movie, already. I’ll wait for the popcorn.”

“Ok, ok, I’m going.” Harry makes a move for the door. “Oh—but my names not Harold…just, FYI.”

Louis doesn’t say anything, just shoots him an exasperated look.

Harry laughs, “Never mind. I’ll be in the other room.”

Louis smiles to himself once Harry’s turned his back. This evening is not playing out the way he expected it to, but he’s not sure that he minds.

* * *

The DVD collection at the house is lackluster to say the least, consisting primarily of straight-to-video movies and underperforming sequels.

“We have access to Netflix, you know,” Louis says from the couch. Harry is crouched down in front of the rickety bookcase next to the TV. “Let’s just pick something from there.”

“Come on, Louis. Where’s the fun in that? Being subjected to the meager entertainment available at a rental house is the stuff vacation dreams are made of! Which is why after the movie we are going to do a jigsaw puzzle that is more than likely missing a few pieces while I read aloud from a shitty James Patterson paperback.”

Louis laughs, “Alright, you’ve convinced me. Now, what are we watching.”

Harry has stood up and is holding two movies behind his back.

“As far as I see it, we’ve got two options.” One at a time, he reveals his selections. “First_, Jurassic Park III_. By far the weakest of the series, missing Ian Malcolm, but we get the return of Alan Grant, and, well…dinosaurs. Second, _Bridget Jones, The Edge of Reason_. You’ve got your Colin Firth, you’ve got your Hugh Grant, do we even care if the film is any good?”

“Well, if it’s up to me I’d choose _J_—”

“_Bridget Jones_ it is, then!” He bends to put the disc in the DVD player.

“Hey!” Louis throws a pillow at his back, chuckling. “You shithead, why’d you even ask?”

“It was a test.” Harry is squinting at Louis and pointing a finger in his face. “You failed, sorry to say.” He grabs the remote and joins Louis on the couch.

Louis drops his head back against the sofa cushions and groans. “Unfair. Can I request a do-over?”

“I’m sorry, your answers are binding. I’m marking you down as ‘known romcom hater.’” Harry adjusts imaginary glasses on the end of his nose and pretends to write something on an imaginary clipboard. “I, on the other hand, will never turn down a romantic comedy. That’s a fun Harry fact for you.”

“Hmm,” Louis purses his lips, “noted.” He tries to look perturbed, but the most he can manage is reluctantly endeared. “I haven’t even seen the first one, Harry. How am I supposed to know what’s happening?”

“Well, there’s no problem there. I’ve only seen the movie a couple dozen times; I’ll fill you in.”

“I’m sure you will,” Louis says with a smirk as the movie starts up.

It’s not long before conversation moves on from Bridget and Mark’s backstory to Harry and Louis’s own. Harry wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to get to know Louis. He has a million questions and seems genuinely interested in everything Louis tells him. He also seems to know that offering up information about himself puts Louis at ease and makes him more likely to share. Louis learns that, after spending his entire life in New Hampshire, Harry went to NYU for college and just graduated this past May. He hears all about what a shock it was for Harry to move to such a big city, but how, by the time he was done with school, he had an even harder time coming home. He also learns that Harry is just here for the summer, that he has plans to move to LA and try to write for TV. He’s going to stay with his older sister Alexis, who lives in Silver Lake and works for Buzzfeed, until he can figure out his own living situation. In turn, Louis tells Harry all about his life-related woes. How he earned a degree in theater, but never really had an idea of what he would do with it. How he’s floated from one temp office job to another, each more mind-numbingly, soul-crushingly boring than the last. How he moved back in with his parents, partially because his income was pretty inconsistent, but mostly because he felt like he’d sort of given up. Harry is a sympathetic listener and keeps his eyes trained on Louis, his brow furrowed.

“What made you want to study theater in the first place?” Harry asks, not judgmentally, just genuinely curious.

Louis smiles a soft, wistful smile, looking down and picking at the couch cushion. “I acted in high school. I never had any aspirations to actually be, like, AN ACTOR, but all of my friends were drama nerds and it, well— it was the place I fit in. I wanted to stay in that world for a while longer.”

Harry nods slowly and studies his face. “Yeah…I get that. You definitely have a touch of that about you.”

“A touch of what, dramatics?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no no,” Harry raises a palm to Louis and shakes his head. “I mean, you’re a nerd.”

“Fuck _off _already!” Louis pulls a pillow out from behind his back and throws it at Harry for the second time tonight.

Harry puts his hands up in surrender, laughing through an apology as Louis reaches for another pillow. “I’m sorry!” he giggles. “I’m sorry. I take it back.” He reaches out cautiously and gently removes the pillow from Louis’s hands, never dropping eye contact.

“You’d better,” Louis says, eyes narrowing.

“It’s too bad, though,” Harry says as he hugs the pillow to his chest and draws his knees up in front of him, sitting sideways on the couch and facing Louis.

“And why’s that?” Louis is skeptical.

Harry hides a giant goofy grin behind the pillow and says, “I like nerds.”

“Hello!” The front door opens and Kate calls out with a strangled whisper-shout. “We’re back!”

Louis jumps to his feet and stands, at awkward attention, watching his parents and sisters infiltrate the room. Harry lowers the pillow and his knees; he keeps his eyes on Louis, a bemused look on his face.

“What are you watching?” Nora and Emily throw themselves down on the sofa. Bridget and Mark Darcy have reconciled and are locked in a passionate embrace.

“Were you two making out or something?” Emily teases, looking from Louis’s awkward, guarded expression to Harry’s delighted one.

“Oh Emily, be quiet,” Kate jokingly covers her oldest daughter’s mouth and ruffles her hair, perching on the arm of the couch. “Ignore her please, Harry. I hope everything went ok?”

Harry is not bothered by Emily in the slightest. If anything he seems even more tickled by the situation. “Everything was great! Kids were wonderful; everyone is sound asleep.”

“And you had some extra assistance, I see!” She looks to Louis with a raised eyebrow. “I thought you were going out, sweetheart.”

“Oh yeah…” Louis mumbles, “I, uh…I guess I just didn’t feel like it?”

Harry (and Emily and Nora, for that matter) gives him a smug little knowing look. Louis lowers his brow and wrinkles his nose. You know nothing, Harry Styles.

“Well, thanks so much, Harry.” Kate is at least pretending not to be fazed. She hands him some folded up bills and waits for him to stand before walking to the front door. He follows.

“It really was my pleasure,” he says. “Let me know if you need me again while you’re here.” He has his hands in the pockets of his cutoffs. He looks over Kate’s shoulder to Louis, hanging back in the doorway to the living room, not sure what to do with himself. He doesn’t exactly want Harry to go just yet, but he’s certainly not going to admit that in front of his family. Or Harry.

“Lou, thanks for the help. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah,” Louis says with a small wave. “No problem.”

Harry steps back, through the door and out onto the front porch, giving Louis one last smile before he turns and walks off.

Kate closes the door behind him and locks it. “He’s just lovely,” she says. “What a darling boy.”

“Yeah,” Louis says, having trouble moving from his spot. “Darling.”

“Louis, either you or your boyfriend has shit taste in movies,” Emily calls from the couch.

“Oh, shut up.” He sees that the DVD menu has come up and despite decrying Louis and Harry’s taste, Emily grabs the remote and selects _Play_. “If it’s so shit, why are you starting it over?”

Emily just shrugs, “Dunno, vacation I guess.” She hands him the empty popcorn bowl and bats her lashes at him. “More please.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter!
> 
> Big giant thank you to my wonderful friend and beta maevewren for all of her help!

Louis arrives at the beach the next morning, actually looking forward to seeing Harry. He’s not sure how that happened, exactly, nor does he have a clue what he expects from Harry or intends to say to him. He just knows he gets a little quiver in his stomach knowing each step down the rickety wooden staircase is bringing him closer to seeing Harry. He doesn’t, though. Harry is nowhere to be seen. Becca is on the lifeguard stand, and Louis sits and watches anxiously, assuming Harry will come to replace her at some point. But he doesn’t. Another lifeguard that Louis doesn’t recognize comes out of the clubhouse when it’s time for Becca’s break. Harry did say he’d see Louis tomorrow, Louis would swear to it. Didn’t he? Maybe he’s sick. Maybe this new dude is filling in for him? Or maybe Harry didn’t mean it and just said it in an off-handed way and why is Louis putting so much stock into what was more than likely just a casual goodbye? He needs to calm himself.

Niall shows up at the lakeside and joins Louis, only mildly worse-for-wear from the party last night.

“It was fun, man,” he says as he kicks at the sand in front of him, his eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses and a snapback pulled low on his forehead. “You would have had a good time. But I guess you probably had more fun with Harry then, huh?”

“What?” Louis splutters, “Who told you— I mean, what are you talking about?”

“Ha!” Niall throws his head back, delighted with Louis’s response. “You _were_ with Harry, right? He told me he was babysitting. I figured you cancelled on me because you’d rather keep him company.”

“I didn’t—” Louis doesn’t know what to say. Niall’s not wrong. He settles for a huff as he crosses his arms over his knees.

“It’s cool!” Niall is under the impression Louis feels bad for standing him up. “I’m glad. I told you he liked you, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Louis grumbles. He’s not a fan of his personal life being the subject of public discourse. He wonders if Niall and Harry have actually discussed him or if Niall just intuited Harry’s interest. He sighs. At this point, does it even matter? “I just...” Louis’s not sure that he’s up for confessing to the burgeoning flutters he’s been feeling, nor the unnecessarily heavy pit of disappointment he currently has due to Harry’s absence.

“Hey, say no more. Harry’s an awesome guy, and what good is a lake vacation without any summer romance? Or maybe not romance? Maybe just a little…” Niall pulls his glasses down his nose and waggles his eyebrows.

“Gross, Niall. Did you not just tell me to ‘say no more?’” Louis gives him a shove. “Besides, there’s nothing to say, romantic or otherwise. Harry’s just…well, he’s _nice_, isn’t he? I kind of thought he was a dick, but he’s actually just the opposite. Or at least I think he is. I don’t even know. I was hoping to maybe figure that out a little bit more today, but he’s not even here.”

“Sorry, dude.” Niall rests an elbow on Louis’s shoulder. “But don’t be too disappointed. This is a small town, he’s around somewhere. You’ll run into him sooner or later.”

“Yeah,” Louis is not comforted. “I need a break from the sun. I’m going to go read in the clubhouse for a while.”

“Ok, man.” Niall stands and brushes off the seat of his swim trunks. “Hey, I might be gone when you come back out, but I’ll text you about tonight!”

“What’s tonight?” Louis asks.

“Hell if I know,” Niall says with a shrug and a smile. “Something fun though, I guarantee! Hashtag lake life, you know?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Niall, you’re a fucking dork.”

Louis makes himself comfortable on one of the couches in the clubhouse. He reads. He dozes. He tries not to think about Harry. He fails. He eventually decides he’s done with the beach for the day. If there’s no Harry to occupy him, he might as well go back to the house and rest up for whatever Niall insists they do at night.

Louis exits the clubhouse. Walking down the path that leads to the beach, he can already hear the screams and squeals of his siblings echoing up from the lake. He looks out at the water and locates the lot of them. They’re all in a relatively shallow area, splashing and howling and jumping on top of one another. Except for Andrew, that is. He’s standing stock still in the middle of the crowd, hands in fists and held up in front of him. Even from this distance Louis can tell that he’s smiling, but nervous. As he watches, Andrew yelps and is suddenly lifted out of the water by someone who was below the surface, and thrown five feet, outside of the ring of siblings. He resurfaces, laughing. The rest of the kids clamber around the thrower for their own turn. Louis stops dead in his tracks. It’s Harry, at the beach after all. Louis doesn’t move from his spot, watching Harry pick up Julia and throw her, more gently than Andrew, taking Julia’s size and age into consideration. Louis wonders how long this game has been going on. More importantly, when is it going to end? He selfishly wants Harry to abandon the kids to come talk to him, but at the same time, there’s a nervous twist in his stomach even at the sight of Harry.

Louis has just about convinced his feet to start moving again when Harry looks his way. The noisy children fade away, the music someone is playing down the beach goes silent; there’s only Harry, breaking into a 1000 megawatt smile as he catches Louis’s eye. He turns to say something to the kids with a wave, then starts out of the water. Before, Louis could only see as low as his upper torso, the water hitting just at the bottom of that ridiculous butterfly tattoo. But now…oh no. Louis has never seen Harry at the beach when he wasn’t working. As he emerges from the water, Louis sees that he’s, of course, not wearing his red lifeguard uniform. No, today, on his day off, Harry has chosen to wear a pair of tiny, almost-neon yellow swim shorts. It’s like his ass and, er, everything else are clothed in pure sunshine. They’re shorter than his red trunks (much) and reveal a heretofore unseen by Louis tattoo of a tiger on his thigh. To be honest, they reveal an awful lot more than that and Louis finds himself, yet again, glued to his spot.

Harry walks out of the water and shakes his head; his hair is down and the long chestnut locks fly about, flinging water like a wet dog. He looks up at Louis again and breaks into a jog, though from Louis’s perspective he’s barely moving at a snail’s pace. It’s like a slow-motion beach run from an episode of _Baywatch_. Harry’s curls swinging from side to side with each step, the muscles in his chest and shoulders shifting under his glistening golden skin, every footfall kicking up sand, bringing him closer and closer to Louis.

“Hey!” Harry says, back to normal speed. Louis is still frozen. Harry runs his fingers through his hair and combs it up into a bun on the back of his head, using an elastic he has around his wrist. Not helping Louis’s situation.

“I was looking for you! The kids thought you might have left. Was afraid I’d missed you.”

“Oh, no, I—” Louis stutters to life. “Uh, just needed to get out of the sun for a bit.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re still here.” He’s just standing there with his hands on his hips, fingers overlapping his laurel tattoos, which run across his abdomen and into his shorts, along with a trail of dark brown fuzz. His legs spread, feet dug into the sand, squinting at Louis with the sun in his eyes, as if being glad to see him were a totally average and not at all heart stopping thing to mention. As if just seeing him run across the beach, sopping wet and wearing the tiniest shorts known to humankind, weren’t already enough to leave Louis dry-mouthed and speechless.

“Yeah, uh,” Louis tries, “me too.” That response was not normal. Harry doesn’t seem to mind. He gives another bright white, beaming smile. He’s shifting his weight back and forth from one foot to the other.

“So, I wanted to ask you,” Harry says, “do you want to do something tonight?”

Just like that.

“Oh! I, uh—” Why is Louis always such a spluttering mess around this guy? “Yeah, that sounds…um…good. That sounds good.” Idiot.

“Great.” Harry crosses his arms over his chest. He’s giving more of a lopsided grin now, his lips pressed together, quirking up on one side. Only one of his dimples is showing, but it is in full effect. “I’ll come get you at 7?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Good.” He’s still smiling.

“Good.” Louis doesn’t know what else to say.

Harry looks at him for a beat longer and then nods. “Ok then! I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you tonight!”

“Oh! You’re leaving.”

“Yeah, I’ve got some stuff to take care of. I just stopped by to talk to you.”

“You—” Louis doesn’t know how to respond to this information.

“Seven o’clock!” Harry has gathered his things from where they were lying on the sand and is walking backwards toward the parking lot.

“Yeah, I’ll…I’ll see you then.” Louis needs to lie down.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First date!
> 
> Big giant thank you to my wonderful friend and beta maevewren for all of her help!

“Sweetheart?” Kate pops her head into the room Louis shares with his sisters. “Are you in here?”

“Yeah, mom. Trying to get dressed here.” He’s standing in front of his suitcase, dressed only in boxer briefs, half of the clothing he’s brought on the trip thrown into a heap on the bed. Kate sits down next to the pile.

“I got a text for you from Harry?”

“You what?!” Louis snatches the phone out of her hand.

“Rude!” she says, but she’s got a delighted little sparkle in her eye.

_Hi Kate, sorry to make you the messenger but I don’t have Louis’s number. Would you mind telling him I’m running a few minutes late?_

“So,” Kate says as she reclines against the headboard, “you’re going out with Harry tonight?”

“Yes,” Louis says tersely, handing back her phone and avoiding eye contact. “I mean, no, not— I don’t know that ‘going out’ is what’s actually happening here. He asked if I wanted to do something tonight. But so did Niall and he certainly wasn’t asking me out on a date.”

“Lou,” Kate gives him an exasperated look. “Do you really think he would have spent last night watching romantic comedies with you if he _didn’t_ want to date you?”

“I mean, I don’t know him very well, but _yes._ Yes. I think he probably spends a fair amount of time watching romantic comedies with any number of people. But that’s beside the point: he was _paid _to be here.”

“Well, he wasn’t paid to gaze at you with that dreamy look in his eyes when he said goodbye.”

“MOM. Get out of here!”

Kate laughs. “I’m just saying!” She gets up and heads toward the door. “Date or not, be sure to give him your number tonight. I don’t need to be the go-between for whatever racy messages you two are going to start sending each other.” She steps out into the hallway, then sticks her head back in. “Because it’s definitely a date.” She slips out for real and closes the door, just dodging the flip-flop Louis throws in her direction.

“I’ll tell him you got the message!” she calls from the hallway.

“Tell him to not even bother…” Louis grumbles under his breath, roughly raking his hands through his hair. If it is a date (and of course, Louis wants it to be a date, he just kind of can’t believe that Harry could be that into him and he doesn’t want to get his hopes up), Louis is going to be poorly dressed for it. When he packed for this vacation, he was thinking he would be doing little more than swimming and extreme wallowing. His sweatpants, though they do make his ass look amazing, are not the look he’s going for tonight. He settles on a pair of denim shorts that are cuffed just above his knees and a plain white t-shirt. He tucks in the front of his shirt and puts on his white Vans, no socks. Looking in the mirror he thinks, this can’t go well, I’ve got nothing to wear on a second date.

At 7:03 (hardly late, Harold), Louis hears his siblings excitedly chattering as they watch Harry pull up in front of the house. He barrels down the stairs, practically sliding on the banister, intent on getting to Harry before the kids.

“Bye, Mom!” He doesn’t wait for her response before slamming the door and turning to face the driveway. Harry is walking toward the house, fixing his hair, but he stops in his tracks when he sees Louis on the front steps.

“Hi!” Harry looks surprised but absolutely delighted to see Louis walking toward him. “You’re eager!”

“Ha! Just trying to keep the horde at bay. You’ve got quite the fan club around here.”

Harry’s smile softens. “That’s good to know.” He just stands there, watching Louis approach. His hair is falling down around his shoulders in dark brown waves, curling gently at the ends, and pushed back from his face with a chunky pair of tortoiseshell sunglasses. His shirt is made of rumpled linen with soft pink stripes and it’s barely buttoned halfway, giving Louis a glimpse of Harry’s tattoos and a light dusting of chest hair. He’s wearing a different pair of cutoffs than last night, equally frayed at the bottom but a couple of inches shorter, and, like every red-blooded, off-duty lifeguard, he’s wearing a pair of flip-flops. Flip-flops with gleaming gold straps that Louis can’t believe even come in Harry’s size, but flip-flops nonetheless.

Louis has come to a stop, a few feet in front of Harry. “So…” he says, after a beat, cocking his head to the side and raising his eyebrows. Harry is just grinning at him and fiddling with his car keys.

“Yes!” Harry snaps out of his stupor and comes right back to life. “You ready? Of course you’re ready. Silly question. Let’s go!” He turns and walks over to the driver’s side of his Jeep, a faded red Wrangler, top and doors removed, that has to be at least as old as Harry himself. Louis grabs the roll bar and hoists himself up into the passenger seat.

“I can’t imagine a car that is more fittingly ‘you,’ so, well done on that.”

“Ha!” Harry pulls an elastic off his wrist and gathers his hair up into a bun, then starts up the Jeep. He holds onto the back of Louis’s seat with his right hand, his body twisted around so he can look out the back and navigate down the driveway. “I’m going to choose to take that as a compliment?”

“Yeah,” Louis gives a small nod. “I’m ok with that.”

Harry starts down the road toward town and says, “So. Dinner? I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you what we’d be doing tonight beforehand. I hope you haven’t eaten.”

“Oh, no…it’s fine,” Louis stutters. “But, uh…yeah. Dinner is good.”

“Good.” Harry nods slowly. He is keeping his eyes trained straight ahead.

“Um, I did want to ask you though…” Louis starts, scratching at the stubble on his chin. (He didn’t shave. Should he have shaved?) “I mean, I just wasn’t sure, um…if this was a—”

“Date?” Harry interrupts him and finally glances his way, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah—I mean—” Oh god, Louis feels like an ass.

“Louis, this is most definitely a date. I mean, unless you don’t want it to be. That’s fine too. I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear, I just thought—”

“No, no! It’s fine. It’s good!” Louis puts a hand up to stop him. “I do! Want it. I mean, _I want it to be_! Jesus Christ.” He covers his eyes with his hands. He can feel his cheeks burning.

Harry smiles at him. “Good. I want it…_to be_ too.” He looks back to the road and takes a deep breath. “I _also_ want to buy you a lobster roll, soooooo…yeah. Looks like everything’s coming up Harry tonight.”

Louis lowers his hands and lets out a tiny puff of air from his nose. “Dork.”

Harry just smiles.

Harry is appalled that Louis has been in New Hampshire for four days already and has yet to eat a lobster roll.

“But we’re not even by the ocean! Shouldn’t we be eating animals out of the local body of water before we look elsewhere?”

“This is New England, Lou. There are certain things you have to eat when you’re here.” He counts off on his fingers. “Cider donuts, clam chowder, whoopie pies, _lobster rolls_. It’s non-negotiable.”

He’s brought Louis to a restaurant that looks like little more than a shack with a yard full of wooden picnic tables out back, but there’s a line of people stretching from the order window to the parking lot. Louis follows Harry to the end of the line. He has let his hair down again and Louis gets a whiff of something earthy, like eucalyptus. He catches himself inhaling deeply and quickly coughs, hoping Harry didn’t notice.

The line moves slowly, but the boys don’t mind, too caught up in conversation about Harry’s childhood summers on the lake, contrasted with Louis’s memories of past vacations at the Jersey Shore. Turns out, his initial assessment was pretty on the nose: far more trees, far fewer airbrushed t-shirts.

“This is nice and all,” Louis says in a sardonic tone, “but just think, if we were in Seaside Heights right now, you could be trying to win me a giant, stuffed Sponge Bob, and I would have already bought you a custom shirt with an airbrushed neon sun setting over the ocean and ‘Harry’ written underneath in fancy cursive lettering.”

“I think you should know that I would totally wear that shirt,” Harry says earnestly.

Louis laughs, “I’m not surprised by that at all.”

They make their way up to the front of the line and agree that it’s imperative they share a basket of clam strips in addition to the lobster rolls and a couple of beers. With their order number in hand, they find a free table and sit down across from one another. Louis crosses his ankles and his foot brushes against Harry’s. He awkwardly draws his feet back under the bench and looks up at Harry’s face. He’s got a knuckle pressed to his lips, trying (and failing) to hold back a smile. Unless Louis is misreading something, he’s never encountered anyone who so openly wears every feeling they’re having on their face. The way Harry’s looking at him turns Louis’s cheeks pink. Elbows on the table, Louis hides his face in his hands.

“Jesus Christ, Styles,” he laughs, “you’re making me blush.”

“What?” Harry says, incredulously. “What did I do?”

“You’ve just got a pretty intense gaze there, haven’t you?”

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” Harry giggles and looks like he’s about to start blushing as well. “Ok, I’m going to tell you something, and you may not like it, but I just have to say it.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Louis peeks through his fingers at Harry. “What is it.”

Harry leans across the table and says in a pseudo-whisper, “I really like looking at you.”

This is too much for Louis. He drops his head down onto the table and buries his face in his arms. His heart is beating so hard, he’d be shocked if Harry can’t hear it. But even if he can't, he can certainly hear Louis whimper a half laugh, half sob of self-consciousness.

After a moment, Harry leans in closer. “Louis.”

“Yes, Harry?” Louis answers, his voice muffled by his sleeve. He’s not sure he’ll be able to show his face for, oh, the next seven hours. At least.

“Would you mind moving? Our food’s here.”

Louis lifts his head with a start and sees a teenage girl standing at the end of their table, holding a tray full of seafood.

“Sorry! Sorry…here you go.” He spreads his arms and gestures to the empty space between him and Harry. The girl only looks slightly put out and exchanges the tray for their number. Harry thanks her as she walks away, then turns back to Louis.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to tone it down,” he says, picking up a clam strip. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s not that,” Louis says, furrowing his brow. He’s not sure how to put it into words. “You’re just…a lot.”

“Yikes! That’s not good!” Harry looks mildly horrified.

“No, no! It’s fine!” Louis doesn’t want him to take it the wrong way. “This isn’t bad. It’s that— well, before, with the megaphone and the teasing…_that_ was a lot.”

“Ok…” Harry seems to be bracing himself for whatever is coming next.

“And now, you’ve stopped that, but…I think it’s just you,” Louis tries to smile at him reassuringly. “You’ve condensed all of that down so it’s quieter and more subdued, but it’s still, well…_a lot_.”

Harry is not reassured.

“But it’s not bad! Ugh,” he moans, then drops his head back into his arms. “I’m doing a terrible job of expressing myself.”

“No, I get it,” Harry says thoughtfully. He pops the clam into his mouth and chews slowly. “You need me to rein it in a little bit still. I can do that.”

“No, please don’t. I’m just—” Louis is definitely fucking this up. “I’m not used to being so openly pursued— so openly _liked_.” Harry raises his eyebrows at this. He draws his lips in between his teeth.

“Oh god, that sounds so presumptuous.” Louis can't believe it’s possible for him to feel even more embarrassed than he already did, but here he is. “I shouldn’t have said that. I—”

“Louis! It’s ok.” Harry reaches across the table, and for a split second Louis thinks he’s going to take his hand. Instead, he splays his fingers and presses his palm down in front of Louis. “I _do _like you. Openly. You are correct.”

Louis scrunches his nose and gives a tiny smile. This isn’t a surprise, why does he feel so fluttery?

“Ok. Well…” Louis rests a fist against his lips and looks down, attempting to obscure his widening grin. He lifts his other hand and tentatively touches the nail of Harry’s index finger with the tip of his own. He presses down gently, and says, “Don’t rein it in. It’s good. I—I like you…liking me.”

Harry laughs. “That’s a start!” He raises his plastic cup of beer. “I’ll take it. Toast to that.”

Louis lifts his own cup.

“To creepy staring and the men who tolerate it?” Harry asks.

“To first dates,” Louis says.

“To first dates. That’s much better than mine.” They touch their cups together and drink, then tuck into the food.

“Oh my god,” Louis moans. “You weren’t kidding about the lobster roll!”

Harry sighs. “You’re going to have to start trusting me, Tomlinson. I don’t fuck around when it comes to seafood.”

“I can see that now. I’ve got a lot to learn.”

The next time Louis’s foot touches Harry’s, he doesn’t pull it back.

* * *

“Alright, what’s next?” Louis asks as they walk back to the Jeep after dinner.

“What’s next, he asks,” Harry drawls. “Are you sure you want there to be a ‘next’?”

Louis bumps his shoulder into Harry’s arm. “I do.”

He really does. After their awkward conversation at the start of dinner, Louis let himself just enjoy Harry’s company. It’s been so long since Louis has dated anyone, he’s forgotten how nice it can be to sit and get to know someone. Turns out, it’s _very_ nice. Harry is very nice. Louis realizes with a start, he’s actually feeling…happy. It’s such an odd feeling, it strikes him how long it’s been since he’s been this relaxed— since he’s truly enjoyed himself.

“Good.” Harry glances over to Louis briefly, but quickly pulls his eyes forward again. Louis can tell he’s trying to curb his dreamy gazing. But even looking straight ahead, Louis can see the crinkling at the corners of his eyes, the dimple deepening in his cheek. It’s still pretty dreamy.

“I had an idea for what we should do next, but I think you’re going to hate it.”

“_Hate it_. Hate is a strong word, Harold. Seems odd to take your date somewhere they’re going to _hate_.”

“Ok, maybe not hate.” They’ve reached the Jeep and climb up into their seats. “But you’re definitely going to make fun of me for it.”

“In that case, I don’t even need to know what it is. I’m in.”

Harry laughs as he starts up the car. “I thought you might like that.”

Harry is right.

“Mini golf?!” Louis guffaws as Harry pulls into the parking lot. “This is how you woo a guy?”

Harry puts the Jeep in park. “My methods of seduction are mysterious,” he says, the deep timbre of his voice raising goosebumps on Louis’s forearms, “but they have a very high success rate.”

“Is that so?” Louis narrows his eyes at Harry. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“A challenge?” Harry asks, quizzically. “So what, you’re going to try to _not_ be wooed? Good luck with that.” He exaggeratedly rolls his eyes as he gets out of the Jeep. Louis can’t help but laugh.

He sets off in the direction of the main kiosk with Harry a step behind him. He hears the jingle of Harry’s keys dropping into his pocket, then feels a gentle squeeze on his elbow. Louis stops and Harry brushes his hand down his forearm and takes his hand.

Harry holds their hands up between them. “Is this ok?”

Louis gives him a soft smile. “Yeah.” Harry grins and tightens his grip slightly. Fuck, he wasn’t kidding. Louis doesn’t stand a chance.

Harry hands Louis a club and the teenage kid behind the counter asks what color balls they want.

“Uh…black,” Louis responds. To Harry, he whispers, “The color of my soul.”

“Oh, Louis! I hope that’s not true!” Harry looks at him with faux-concern.

Louis shrugs, “I guess you’ll find out.”

When Harry asks for pink Louis nudges his bicep and says, “I was hoping you’d pick yellow. It’s the same shade as your swim trunks.”

Harry turns to him in surprise. “You noticed my shorts.” He nods to himself with a knowing smile.

“What’s that look for?” Louis asks suspiciously.

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking this maybe won’t be as difficult as you’ve led me to believe.”

“Fuck off,” Louis laughs and gives Harry a gentle shove in the direction of the first hole.

The course looks like it was built in the ’50’s and hasn’t been updated since. Harry explains that there is a newer, fancier, more elaborate course on the other side of town but he’s always liked this one better.

“The other course is all intense and serious. It’s got a pirate theme but it’s like real pirates, not fun pirates.”

“Hmm…who wants raping and pillaging with their putt-putt?” Louis asks.

“Exactly! This place is so goofy and weird, the way mini golf is meant to be.”

Louis tees up at the first hole, a straight forward stretch of green underneath the sun-bleached figure of a grinning clown doing a back bend. “So, you come here often, then.” Louis’s beginning to wonder how much of this wooing is standard routine and how much has been customized for tonight.

“I like to give them my business when I can. The owners are friends of my grandparents. I’ve known them my whole life.”

Cute, but not the sort of information Louis was fishing for. He decides to drop it. He shouldn’t care if Harry brings all of his dates here anyway. What difference does it make?

“Hey, do you want to make this interesting?” Harry points his club at Louis.

“Are you implying hitting little balls through windmills isn’t interesting enough?” Louis taps Harry’s club with his own.

Harry purses his lips and rolls his eyes. “No, you little shit.” He pulls their balls out of the hole and places the black one in Louis’s outstretched palm before moving on to the next hole. “I meant, like, loser buys ice cream or something.”

“So there’s going to be yet another phase to this evening?” Louis pretends to be surprised.

Harry doesn’t respond, but simply raises his eyebrows and looks at Louis expectantly.

“I think that’s a great idea. You’re up, Harold. And I’m winning.”

Harry’s home field advantage and familiarity with the course aren’t enough for him to beat Louis, though they have such a good time laughing at the increasingly ridiculous themes of each hole and making ball puns that neither of them pays much attention to the score, just enough for Louis to be certain of his victory.

“Well Harold, you put up a good fight, but, if my calculations are correct, you owe me some ice cream.”

Harry sighs, “It’s just as well…I would have felt bad if you had to pay, seeing as I was the one who invited you out.”

“You’re not trying to pretend like you let me win, are you?” Louis grabs Harry’s wrist and looks at him with disbelief. He doesn’t let go.

“Oh no, I would _never_. If you haven’t figured it out already, I’m _quite_ competitive.” He twists his arm and slides it up through Louis’s hand, then interlocks their fingers. He rubs his thumb over Louis’s.

“That’s right…” Louis’s brain goes a bit fuzzy at the contact, but he’s still able to think back to playing Pong Pong in the clubhouse. What a different person he thought Harry was at the time. “But you’re not an asshole about it.”

“Ha! Thanks, I guess?” Harry squeezes his hand.

“No, I mean, usually when people are really competitive they’re jerks about it. You’re not a jerk, though. You’re really…well, you’re nice.”

They’ve reached the Jeep and are standing, facing one another, by the passenger side. Harry brings their intertwined hands up and holds them gently against his chest, just below his collarbone. He studies Louis’s face for a moment and bites his lower lip.

“You sound surprised,” he says softly. Louis can feel the words rumbling through Harry’s ribcage.

“Well…” Louis’s pretty sure he’s stopped breathing. He can’t stop his eyes from flitting down to Harry’s mouth. “You know, I—I wasn’t a fan, at first.”

“But you are now?”

Louis doesn’t think either of them have moved but he doesn’t remember Harry’s face being this close to his own. A lock of hair falls loose from behind Harry’s ear. Louis can feel his breath against his cheek.

“Maybe a little bit?”

“Louis.” It sounds like an exhale.

“Yeah?” Louis’s voice cracks as he says it.

Harry grins. “I owe you an ice cream.” He scrunches up his nose and tightens his grip on Louis’s hand before he releases it and walks to the driver’s side of the Jeep. Louis is unable to move.

“Are you coming?” Harry calls.

Fuck.

* * *

After eating a couple of ice cream cones (Harry doesn’t insist, but strongly recommends Louis get blueberry, a local specialty; he is, once again, absolutely correct), Harry pulls back into the Tomlinsons’ driveway.

He puts the Jeep in park, and Louis turns toward him, prepared to say a quick goodnight. They were so close to kissing earlier, or at least Louis thought they were. If Harry didn’t do it then, he’s certainly not going to do it now. But before he can say a word, Harry has hopped out of the car and is waiting around back for Louis to do the same.

“Thanks for coming out with me, Lou.” They walk side by side toward the house. Harry’s hands are in his pockets.

“I had a good time,” Louis says. He climbs the first step of the porch and turns to face Harry. The added height puts him at eye level with Harry. Louis’s parents have left the porch light on and a few moths are flitting around it. Their shadows flicker over Harry’s face. The fireflies are out and they gently twinkle in and out behind him.

“I did too,” Harry replies, his hands still (maddeningly) in his pockets. “I had a really good time.” His eyes drop to Louis’s lips but he leans back, as if he’s about to step toward the Jeep. Louis’s heart leaps into his throat.

“Fuck this,” Louis huffs, exasperated. He grabs the front of Harry’s shirt and pulls him close.

Harry laughs, startled, “Louis, what—”

“Sorry. I’d just really like it if you’d kiss me now.”

Harry’s face breaks into a massive grin as he takes his hands out of his pockets and places them on either side of Louis’s face. They’re so close now, the tips of their noses almost touching. Harry’s eyes move from one side to the other, trying to focus on both of Louis’s.

“Well?” Louis asks.

Harry inhales sharply and finally closes the distance between them; the press of his lips against Louis’s is warm and firm and tastes like blueberry ice cream and makes Louis think he might pass out. But he doesn’t, because losing consciousness would mean missing out on the feeling of Harry’s big, calloused hands cradling his jaw, his lips parting slightly and the tip of his tongue caressing Louis’s bottom lip. Louis can feel Harry’s mouth still turned up in a smile and he can’t help but smile right back. Harry strokes a thumb over Louis’s cheekbone, then pulls him closer, kissing him more deeply and running a hand up through Louis’s hair. Louis lets out a tiny little moan from the back of his throat. Harry pulls back, almost panting, and rests his forehead against Louis’s.

“Lou,” he exhales, bringing his hand back around and running the pad of his thumb over the stubble on Louis’s chin.

“Hmm?” Louis hums, eyes closed, mesmerized by the touch.

Harry gently turns Louis’s head to the side and leans in. His lips brush against Louis’s ear as he quietly asks, “Will you please give me your phone number? I don’t want to have to text your mom again.”

Louis bursts into laughter and drops his face to Harry’s shoulder. He feels Harry encircle his arms around his upper body and squeeze, laying a kiss on Louis’s hair and laughing along with him.

When Louis is able to compose himself, he picks his head up. Lips pulled between his teeth, he puts his hands on Harry’s shoulders and looks him in the eye. “Yes. Of course I will.”

“Good,” Harry tells him, “I want to do this again.”

Louis smiles sincerely. “Me too.”

Harry leans in and kisses him chastely, humming as he does. He then reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone.

“Here.” He holds it up between them. “Before you get too distracted.”

Louis snatches it from him and rolls his eyes. He creates a new contact for himself and enters his number, then hands it back to Harry.

“I’ll just text you so you have mine…” Harry says distractedly, thumbing at his phone screen. He presses send and returns the phone to his pocket. “I’m working tomorrow. Will you be at the beach?”

“For the next week and a half? Always.”

“Good.” Harry runs a hand down Louis’s arm, then grabs onto his hand.

“Good.” Louis pulls Harry closer and takes his other hand, wrapping them both around his waist then reaching up to bury his fingers in Harry’s hair and scratch at the back of his scalp. “One more kiss before you go?” he asks quietly.

“Umm…” Harry pretends to be thinking. “How about three.”

“Seven.” Louis counters.

“Eleven, final offer.”

“Is this the way negotiating works?” Louis asks.

“I don’t know, but I’m getting what I want so I don’t really give a shit.”

Louis’s laugh is cut short when Harry covers his mouth with his own.

* * *

Lying in bed, much (much) later, Louis holds a hand up to his lips. They feel flushed and swollen, amazing. He doesn’t know how he’s going to fall asleep. He feels like a kid on Christmas Eve, but the only present he wants is the chance to talk to Harry at the beach tomorrow. He can’t wait.

He’s finally starting to drift off when he remembers with a jolt that Harry sent him a text. He leans over the side of his bed and frantically searches the floor for his shorts, finding them and shoving his hand into three of the four pockets before retrieving his phone. One text, from a number he doesn’t recognize. He opens the message and gasps, covering his eyes with his forearm and flopping back against his pillow. Harry didn’t send a message but a photo. Of himself. Standing on a giant rock, green trees in the background. Wearing nothing but his yellow swim trunks.

When he’s able to regain some composure, Louis types back, _You’re going to murder me, Styles. Goodnight. xx_


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big giant thank you to my wonderful friend and beta maevewren for all of her help!

Louis wakes from dreams of long, flowing hair and itty, bitty shorts and groans. It’s early. His sisters are still sleeping; the house is quiet. How is he going to wait a reasonable amount of time before heading down to the beach? He lays in bed for a while, watching the sunlight sneak past the closed blinds and shift across the foot of his bed, the room getting brighter, wishing he could doze off again. He doesn’t touch his phone. He doesn’t want to know what time it is. He also doesn’t want to be tempted to text Harry at this ungodly hour of the day.

After what is probably only ten minutes, Louis can’t stand it anymore. He decides to go for a run. Work up a sweat, get some jitters out, maybe distract himself from thoughts of Harry’s hands on the small of his back and his lips on the underside of Louis’s jaw. Fuck. Yes, a run will help. He pulls on some shorts, grabs his sneakers and slips out into the hall just as his mom is leaving her room.

“Good morning, darling,” she says, easing her hand around his elbow. “Did you have a nice time last night?”

Louis kisses her cheek. “I did, actually.” He can’t contain his beaming smile. He doesn’t even bother trying.

“I’m so glad,” she smiles back at him as they descend the stairs and head toward the kitchen. “See? We’re having fun here! This trip was an excellent idea. Your mom is so wise.”

“I’ve never said otherwise.” Louis pulls out a kitchen chair and sits to tie his shoes. Kate putters about and fills the coffee pot.

“You’re going for a run?” she says, incredulously, when she notices what Louis’s wearing.

“Yeah, just thought I’d get out for a bit before everyone’s awake. What? What’s that look for?”

“Nothing!” Kate puts her hands up. “It’s just unexpected, that’s all. I’m happy to see it.”

“Your happiness is my only goal, you know that,” he says with an impish smile.

Kate flicks a dish towel at him and laughs. “Get out of here, you little shit.”

He’s not far into his run before he’s made painfully aware of exactly why his mother seemed so shocked to see him running. It’s been, oh, eight months (possibly longer?) since he’s done any sort of exercise, and he can feel it. He’s barely at the end of their street before his legs start burning and his lungs aren’t far behind.

Despite the early hour, it’s already hot out, and the air is thick with humidity. Louis’s shirt is soon soaked through with sweat. His skin is glistening and he can feel his wet, limp locks of hair hit the back of his neck with every step. It’s gross but it feels so good. The heat makes his muscles feel warm and pliable and his heart is still beating hard at the memory of Harry’s touch…his smell. Louis just wants to move; fuck the pain and discomfort. He’s feeling more alive than he has in who knows how long.

When he returns home, he finally allows himself to check his phone. There are two texts from Harry.

_At work. Why aren’t you here yet?_

_Kidding. Just looking forward to seeing your face. -H xxx_

Louis thinks he’s swooning. Is this swooning? He’s not sure he’s ever done it before, but his heart feels like it’s going to float right up out of his body.

His thumbs hesitate over the phone screen. He scrolls up slightly to take another look at the photo of Harry in the yellow shorts. Fuck, he’s sexy. Louis stares for a moment, the swelling in his heart spreading to other parts of his body. He can’t believe that less than twelve hours ago he had his hands in that hair, his mouth on those lips, his body pressed against that…well…Louis needs a shower. He sends a quick text off to Harry before heading to the bathroom.

_You’re making me blush. Be there in an hour._

He strips off his sweaty clothes and drops them on the floor. He turns on the shower and examines his reflection in the mirror while it heats up. His hair is a mess and his brow is still glistening with perspiration, but even he can see that he’s looking better, happier. The Harry Styles effect. Steam fills the room and gradually obscures his view.

Louis steps into the shower and lets the hot water pound against his back. His legs are aching but he feels good. He can’t stop smiling. He can’t stop thinking about that photo. He can’t stop thinking about last night. He grabs the body wash and lathers up his chest, then moves his hands down toward his groin. He has some business to attend to before he’s going to be able to spend the day in the presence of a shirtless Harry. Thank god for bathroom door locks and loud showers.

* * *

Louis arrives at the beach with his youngest siblings, Lucas and Julia, in tow. They were the only two as keen to get down to the lake as Louis. He’s slightly embarrassed by his obvious impatience, but he ignores the feeling, rationalizing that Harry seemed equally anxious to see him, and wasn’t being shy about it.

Harry doesn’t notice them at first, sitting high on the lifeguard stand, his hair pulled up and his whistle around his neck. His shoulders are broad and muscular and Louis realizes he’s staring when Julia pulls at his arm to make him drop the basket of sand toys. The clatter of toys being dumped on the sand catches Harry’s attention and he turns to see them. A brilliant smile breaks across his face and he holds Louis’s gaze for a long moment, both of them beaming, neither one moving. Eventually, Harry reaches for his megaphone and holds it up to his mouth. His eyebrows are high above the tops of his sunglasses and his mouth is wide open as if he’s about to speak. Louis puts a hand on his hip and gives him a withering look. Harry laughs and drops the charade, returning the megaphone to its place beside him on the bench.

“You two are good?” Louis asks the kids. They’ve settled down to play in the sand. “I’ll just be right over there talking to Harry.”

As Louis jogs over, Harry smiles. “Took you long enough.”

“I’m playing hard to get,” Louis says as he crosses his arms and leans a shoulder against the side of the stand.

Harry lowers his sunglasses to peer down at Louis, his brow skeptical.

“What?” Louis giggles, self-consciously, but pleased at the same time. He’s already warming up in the light of Harry’s gaze. He swats at Harry’s shin, barely brushing it with the back of his hand.

Harry nudges Louis’s arm with his toe. “I have a break in thirty minutes. Will you swim to the raft with me?”

“Yeah…” Louis reaches over and gently rubs a thumb over the top of Harry’s foot. “I will.”

“Good. Thirty minutes.”

“Thirty minutes.”

Louis realizes he’s not swimming anywhere if another responsible adult doesn’t come to the beach soon. Thankfully, it’s not long before the rest of the family makes their way down. Louis tries to distract himself with his book, tries not to look at the time on his phone every ten seconds, but it’s not easy. When he finally sees another lifeguard ambling over to replace Harry, it’s all he can do to feign nonchalance and not run into the water. He pretends to be reading, and doesn’t look up until Harry has walked over to fetch him.

“Kate, Geoff, pleasure to see you!” Harry calls. The younger kids swarm around him and Louis hops up before Harry can get too entrenched in the crowd. He snags Harry by the elbow and guides him away.

“Byee!” Harry tosses a hurried wave over his shoulder and stumbles a bit in the sand. To Louis he says, “Eager again, Lou! I like it.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis laughs, even as his cheeks redden a touch.

“Don’t apologize.” Their pace has slowed, now that they’re out of earshot of the family. “I mean it, I like it.”

Harry reaches up and takes the elastic out of his hair. It tumbles down around his shoulders and Louis has to avert his eyes as Harry shakes it loose and scratches at his scalp. It’s too much. Harry guides Louis toward the lake with a light touch on his back. This is also too much. Louis’s not doing well.

They dive into the water and swim out to the empty raft at a leisurely pace, joking and splashing each other as they go. (Louis would have expected Harry to try to race him. He’s happy to not.) Harry swims out ahead of Louis a bit then turns over onto his back. He kicks at the water, smiling in Louis’s direction, more to get his attention than to give him a face full.

“I had a really great time last night,” he says. “Don’t know if I mentioned that.”

“I mean, not in so many words…” Louis doesn’t even mean to be suggestive, it just comes out that way. “But I got the idea.”

“Ha!” That same sexy horse laugh that Louis is becoming more and more familiar with bursts free from Harry’s chest. “Can’t say that I’ve ever been accused of subtlety.” He flips over and dives beneath the surface, coming back up at the bottom of the raft ladder. Louis follows.

Worn out from the swim, Louis flops down onto his back, arms flung over his head, next to Harry in the middle of the raft.

“I did too,” he huffs out, slowly regaining control of his breathing.

“What’s that?” Harry has a forearm draped over his eyes, shielding them from the blazing midday sun. His hair looks intentionally fanned out around his head and his chest is glistening with droplets of lake water. He looks like a goddamn mermaid, sunning himself on a rock.

“I had a good time, I mean.” Louis closes his eyes. He can only look at Harry for so long before he starts to go into sensory overload. He wants to marvel at the change in his opinion of Harry over the course of the past week, but he realizes it hasn’t actually changed much at all. Harry always was more than Louis could stand, it’s just now, he likes it.

He feels a drop of water land on his cheek, followed by several more. Harry has pushed up onto his side and is hovering over Louis, his eyes skating over Louis’s wet, messy hair, down his cheek, his jaw, the rest of his splayed-out body.

“Would you be scandalized if I kissed you out here in the open in front of Lake Winnipesaukee and everybody?” His voice is a baritone rumble, like the creaking pine trees that line the shore.

Louis squirms a little, under his gaze. “I might be…but I think you should do it anyway.”

A smile breaks across Harry’s face, and he slowly, slowly, slowly lowers himself until his lips are but a hair’s breadth above Louis’s. Their breath mingles and feels hot on Louis’s skin, even with the stifling humidity in the air. Harry gently touches the side of his nose to Louis’s, then sinks down into him.

The kiss is soft and reserved, but Harry doesn’t pull back right away. He lingers in Louis’s space, as if fully absorbing the sensation of their mouths joined together, allowing himself the tiniest taste through slightly parted lips before breaking contact.

“Well?” Harry traces the tip of his nose over Louis’s cheekbone and up into his hairline, his lips ghosting over Louis’s ear as he speaks. “How scandalized are you?”

Louis lets out an embarrassingly contented sigh and says, “The perfect amount.”

Harry presses a kiss to Louis’s hair, then lies on his stomach beside him, cheek on the backs of his hands, smiling at Louis.

They lay like that for a while, soaking in the sun and each other. Every time Louis starts to feel awkward about sharing silence with this virtual stranger, Harry does something small, but sweet, like brushing a lock of hair off Louis’s forehead, or laying a kiss on the underside of his bicep. Even just smiling at him, with hazy eyes and a sleepy curve to his lips. It feels intimate; more so even than the night before. Barely touching, breathing in the smell of the sun-baked plastic grass and the scent of lake water evaporating off their skin. Louis simultaneously wants to break the silence with what has become their standard communication— joking, teasing, playful banter—but also to roll over and curl up into Harry, let himself be absorbed by the light and never feel anything but his skin and his hands and his hair. Because even when Harry’s quiet, he’s big and loud and Louis can’t hear anything else. He laughs at the thought.

“What?” Harry asks, brow furrowed.

“Nothing.” Louis is still chuckling to himself.

“Well, that’s clearly a lie.” Harry digs a thumb into Louis’s side, then leaves his hand there, fingers drumming impatiently on Louis’s bare skin.

“Ah! Ok!” Louis grabs his hand but doesn’t let it go, pulling Harry’s arm across his body. “You’re going to get tired of me saying this…I was just thinking…well, you’re still a lot!”

Harry groans and drops his forehead onto Louis’s chest. “How is that possible? I wasn’t doing _or_ saying anything!”

Louis laughs, “It’s just you, Harry. You can’t help it.” He tries not to be distracted by Harry’s hair, flung across his chest and tickling his neck. “I promise, I’m into it.” He gives Harry’s hand a squeeze.

Harry looks up, his chin resting on Louis’s pectoral muscle. He rises and falls with Louis’s breathing as he studies his expression, searching for confirmation that what Louis says is in earnest. He purses his lips and knits his brows and Louis watches Harry’s thought process work its way across his face. He finally seems to come around and stretches up to Louis’s mouth.

Inches away, he asks, “Can I scandalize you again?”

In lieu of an answer, Louis closes the distance between their lips, pulling Harry down to him with a hand buried in his hair.

Harry collapses onto his back and says, “Making out on the raft, always an excellent way to spend a lunch break.” He reaches over and takes Louis’s hand in his own.

“You say that like this is a common occurrence.” Louis keeps his face angled toward the sky, trying to keep a jealous edge from creeping into his tone. It’s silly to be jealous. He barely knows Harry, and, of course, Harry has dated other people. Probably a lot of other people.

“I mean,” he says, lifting Louis’s hand and kissing the back in reassurance, “I grew up in the sort of place that is synonymous with summer romance. Every year there are new people to meet, new friends to be made, new hands to hold.” He gives Louis’s a squeeze.

Louis gives a noncommittal hum and turns his head away from Harry.

“Is that weird for me to say? I don’t want to make you feel bad but I also don’t want to be dishonest.”

“Well…” Louis has to be careful with his words. He doesn’t imagine he has any sort of claim over Harry and he doesn’t want to let on that he’s actually a bit jealous of Harry’s past flings. “I guess it’s normal to talk about exes and dating history and whatever…I just…well, it feels strange to talk about all of your summer flings when I know I’m just another one added to the list,” he huffs in frustration; this is sounding needy and weird.

“That’s not to say I expect this to be anything other than that! It’s just a little odd to say it out loud. I don’t know…maybe an imaginary pretense that this could be something more is part of the magic, even when we both know that it never will be. Maybe calling this what it is takes some of the fun out of it?”

“Huh.” Harry looks like he’s carefully processing Louis’s words. “I get what you’re saying. I don’t think you’re wrong.” He rolls onto his side, his head propped up in his hand. He runs the back of a finger along Louis’s rib cage, stops where his waist nips in, keeps his hand there, gently stroking Louis’s side.

“Ok. Maybe this will help. Growing up here, spending all of my summers in a place people come on vacation, I’ve had so many relationships that were destined to end after only a week or two. And not just romantic relationships, friendships too. I guess I decided, a long time ago, to just make the most of it. And I don’t mean that in a lascivious way… I mean, I feel lucky that I get to meet so many people. All the better if I can actually get to know them a bit before our relationship’s inevitable end.

“I’m not a cynic— that’s probably not a surprise. I don’t look at this as something doomed to fail. I see it as a star that’s going to burn bright and fast, and sure, it’s going to flame out, but it’ll be incredible while it lasts.”

“What the fuck, Harry.” Louis slaps a hand over his eyes.

“What? Was that so terrible?” Harry looks alarmed.

Louis rises up onto his elbows with a chuckle. “No, jackass. That was fucking poetic.”

A laugh bursts out of Harry’s mouth, so loud it echoes across the lake. “Louis! I’m trying to be sincere!” His face has gone a bit pink.

“Oh my god, Harold.” Louis nudges Harry’s calf with his toe. “I think you’re blushing!”

Harry lies back and wipes his hands down his face, trying to smooth the self-conscious grin out of his cheeks. “Haven’t I told you my name’s not Harold?”

Louis likes having this effect on Harry. He gets down low, into Harry’s space. “You have, but I think you like it.”

Harry turns to face him. “I do,” he sighs, begrudgingly. They kiss.

“Do you get what I was saying, though? So this is a summer fling; I don’t see that as a bad thing! To me, it’s fun and exciting and I just want to kiss you in the middle of the lake as many times as possible before you have to go home.”

“Ugh, Styles. Now you’re making _me_ blush.” It’s not exactly what Louis wanted to hear (does he even know what he wanted to hear?), but Louis can’t deny the promise of more kisses from Harry is enticing.

“So, what are your plans tonight?” Harry asks. “Will you please come out with me again? I would like that very much.”

Louis reaches out and gently pulls at one of Harry’s curls. “I would too.” There’s nothing else to say. He can’t think of a better way to spend his summer vacation.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big giant thank you to my wonderful friend and beta maevewren for all of her help!

Louis spends the next few days in orbit around Harry. Hanging out with him at the beach when he’s on break, constantly aware of where he is and what he’s doing when he’s not. Louis trying desperately not to obviously stare. And every night going out together, sometimes to a party with Niall and Zayn and Liam, sometimes just the two of them. Only part of the time is Louis thinking regretfully that this is just a fling, that this must be par for the course with Harry. His standard summer just involves meeting someone cute and sweeping them off their feet before he has to say goodbye. Louis squashes down those thoughts as much as possible. There’s nothing wrong with having a short-lived, whirlwind affair. He tries to let go and just be swept up in it.

They go to the movies, they eat more ice cream and seafood than seems humanly possible, they walk on the beach at night. They kiss and kiss and kiss. And they touch; hands together, hands in hair, hands on skin, slipped under a shirt.

More than anything though, they talk. Louis reluctantly lists off every play he’s ever been in (Harry insists, and finds it delightfully fitting that Louis once played Danny Zuko in _Grease_). Harry regales Louis with tales of his short-lived stint in a ska band (he’d played the trumpet in fourth grade, it was worth a shot), and tells of how he discovered his true love was writing, not music (writing a three part, 600k word Drarry fanfiction epic freshman year was a major clue). Louis marvels at the fact that such a massive dork can be as confident and popular as Harry, who is only mock-offended by this, and Harry struggles to understand how someone as funny and clever and insightful as Louis could feel so insecure, to which Louis scoffs and rolls his eyes, his insecurities alive and well, even in the face of Harry’s admiration. Louis learns that, if really forced to define his sexuality, Harry will say he’s pansexual, but he’d rather not label himself at all. Also, that he is completely understanding of the need others may have to label themselves. Which is good, because Louis is gay, no question, and very much wants to label himself as such.

They talk about school (how much Harry loved it, how Louis tolerated it), their jobs (again, love for Harry, tolerance for Louis, for his former job, that is) and their plans (or lack thereof, in Louis’s case) for the future.

And they talk about their love lives, a topic on which Louis actually feels like he comes out a little bit ahead of Harry. It’s true, Harry has him beat by sheer numbers, but while Louis hasn’t dated nearly as many people, he has had a couple serious relationships. He has been in love before. Goofy, awkward teenage love, with his high school boyfriend, and intense, dramatic, intoxicated love in college, neither type built to last, but love nonetheless. Harry admits that’s something he’s never felt, that maybe having so many quick and bright romances has prevented him from ever going that far. Maybe he can blame the lake, spending his whole life in this place where temporary friends are always available but never turn into something more. Louis wonders, to himself, at the fact that someone so open and free with his emotions, someone seemingly primed to love others and to accept love himself, could walk away from so many relationships without ever fully falling for someone.

* * *

On a cloudless, sunny morning, Harry pulls the Jeep up to the Tomlinson residence and is immediately mobbed by Louis’s siblings.

“Harry!” Kate welcomes him into the house. “So happy to see you this morning.”

“Same, Kate.” Louis watches Harry maneuver through the throng from the top of the stairs. It warms his heart to see Harry engaging with his family in this way. There aren’t a lot of 22-year-old guys who’d do the same, at least not in Louis’s experience. He smiles as Harry scoops Julia up into his arms at the same time Lucas attempts to leap onto Harry’s back from the staircase. Even Emily and Nora are belying their too-cool teenage demeanors, watching Harry with googly eyes, laughing at him wrestling the younger kids.

Louis lets the madness continue for a few minutes before he comes down to rescue Harry.

“Ready to go, Harold?” He doesn’t think he’s imagining the way Harry’s face lights up at the sound of his voice.

“Yes! If I can just— get—free—” He pretends to struggle his way out of the knot of children. “Tomlinsons, lovely to see you! I will do my level best to keep your brother and son from going overboard.”

“You don’t have to try too hard!” Emily calls, with a smirk.

“Har har, you little shit.” Louis makes a face at her. “Sorry, Mom!”

Kate shakes her head with mock disapproval. “Don’t listen to Emily, Harry. Keep my boy safe, please.”

Harry wraps an arm around Louis’s waist. “You have my word.”

Louis looks up into his face. He’s being silly but there’s a softness in his eyes that Louis can maybe almost kind of allow himself to read as something deeper. Almost. Harry gives him a smile and a gentle squeeze. Ok, maybe a little bit more than almost.

“Alright then, that’s settled, Harry won’t let me die.” Louis pulls Harry out the door. “Goodbye!”

“Byee!” Harry calls to his adoring fans.

They climb into the Jeep and head off toward the lake.

Zayn’s parents own a motorboat and he has managed to gain exclusive access for the entire day. Harry, Louis, Niall and, of course, Liam are joining him out on the water. They’ve brought plenty of beer, far too many sandwiches and at least five different flavors of Doritos.

“Harry! Louis! Beer!” Niall gets right down to business.

“Did you lie to my mother, Harry?” Louis asks as they both accept cans from Niall. “Are we going to die today?”

“Don’t worry, Louis,” Zayn chimes in. “Your friendly neighborhood ultra-responsible firefighter is on the case.” He juts his chin out at Liam, already at the helm, wearing a captain’s hat and mirrored sunglasses.

“All aboard!” Liam shouts and gives a salute.

“Dude, ‘all aboard’ is for trains, not boats,” Niall says, dissolving into a fit of giggles.

“What? It must be for both. Can’t it be for both?” Liam looks confused. “You’re all coming on board, aren’t you?”

“We sure are, Li.” Zayn wraps his arms around Liam’s shoulders and gives them a squeeze. “You say whatever you like. You’re the captain. Don’t listen to him.”

Louis laughs at his new friends and leans into Harry’s side at the back of the boat. Harry’s got an arm around Louis’s neck and he nestles a kiss into his hair. Louis sighs. He’s starting to think that Harry’s on to something. He may not know these people for the rest of his life, but why should that stop him from enjoying their company while he can?

“Ok, everybody settled in?” Liam looks over the top of his shades. “Prepare for take-off.”

Louis worries Niall might wet himself.

They spend hours out on the lake. First touring around, Liam gunning the boat to top (yet sensible) speed. Then the waterskis come out. Zayn has abstained from alcohol for the first part of the day so he can safely drive the boat and give Liam a chance at it. Of course, Liam is a pro. Zayn, Niall and Harry aren’t too bad at it either, further evidence of their lifetimes full of summers at the lake.

When everybody else has taken a turn, they naturally all look to Louis. He knew this moment was coming.

“I don’t know guys, I’ve never done this before. Am I going to make an ass out of myself?”

“Liam will take it easy on you!” Zayn says.

“And I promise, if I get any really embarrassing video of you I won’t put it on TikTok.” Niall already has his phone out.

“Or,” Harry says as he snatches the phone out of Niall’s hand, “You could just not take any video.” Niall shouts for his purloined property.

“Hey,” Harry turns to Louis and says gently, “You don’t have to do it at all, if you don’t want. I like it better when you’re within cuddling range anyway.” He wraps an arm around Louis’s waist and kisses his neck.

“Hmm,” Louis hums contentedly. “That is an extremely good argument against.”

“Hey!” Niall calls. “I’ve had enough of your cuddling for one day. Louis, get your ass out there!”

Louis is curled up against Harry’s side and he laughs into his shoulder.

“Ok!” he yells at Niall. “Just give me a minute. I need to mentally prepare.” To Harry he says, “Remember, you told my mom you wouldn’t let me die. I expect you to come diving in after me when I inevitably knock myself unconscious with one of the skis.” One of Louis’s hands is entangled in the hair at the nape of Harry’s neck, the other tracing lightly over the wings of the butterfly tattoo on his abdomen. Being this intimate with someone is thrilling and so out of the ordinary for Louis, perhaps even more terrifying than the thought of getting up on those waterskis.

Harry looks in his eyes with intense focus and clear sincerity. “You won’t believe how fast I will swim to you.” He kisses Louis firmly on the mouth, inhaling as he does, as if he’s memorizing Louis’s scent, as well as his taste and touch, before sending him off to his doom. It feels very dramatic. Louis loves it.

“Alright, I’m doing it. Zayn, life jacket.”

Waterskiing is not the complete disaster Louis expected it to be. It’s different than anything he’s ever done, and it takes him a few tries to get the hang of it, but once he does he manages to hold his own. As long as Liam doesn’t drive super fast and avoids taking him over the wake as much as possible. Of course, sometimes it’s unavoidable, and Louis has some truly spectacular wipe-outs. They’re almost worth it, though, for the look of concern that Harry has, his body tensed and ready to dive in, as he watches anxiously to make sure Louis’s ok.

They all take multiple turns. Zayn and Niall even go out tandem for a while. It’s impressive, but not as fun for Louis to watch as when Harry’s out there. He wore his yellow shorts today. Of course. He wouldn’t dare let Louis down by not.

When they’ve tired of skiing, Liam stops the boat in an out of the way spot and drops the anchor. They stay there for hours, swimming, diving off the boat, dozing in the sun, eating Doritos. Louis spreads sunblock over Harry’s gorgeous back when he’s in need of reapplication (Harry is the kind of person to set an alarm on his phone. He takes skin protection as seriously as he does water safety). Harry helps Louis back into the boat after an epic race to a nearby island and back (Liam wins, obviously). He wraps him in a towel, rubbing Louis’s arms, not just to dry him off, but to take advantage of any opportunity for more touching. There’s plenty of food and plenty of beer, but Louis notices that, despite accepting one from Niall first thing, Harry has been nursing the same bottle all day. He’s such a conscientious Boy Scout. It’s great.

“Just one more! Come on, one more!” Niall splutters through the lake water running down his face as he climbs back into the boat.

“Is Niall our child now? Shouldn’t we have had to sign some sort of paperwork or something?” Louis asks Harry in a mock-whisper, speaking behind his hand.

“I think he might be,” Harry says with a smirk. “Are we ready for that sort of responsibility?” They are laid out on the back of the boat, Louis on his front and Harry propped up on an elbow beside him. Harry has been preoccupied with trailing his knuckles down Louis’s spine and nuzzling his shoulder blades, planting a soft kiss here and there as he goes. This is only tolerated by Niall because they have agreed to play a convoluted game Niall swears he didn’t make up in which Harry and Louis have to guess movie titles based on ridiculous poses Niall makes as he launches himself off the boat and into the water. So far, they’ve guessed zero correctly.

“Nialler, this is an awful game!” To Louis, Harry says, “I don’t even know who’s losing. Is it us because we can’t guess them or him because he’s so shit at acting them out?”

“I think we’re all losers, Harold.”

“Last one! I think you’re gonna get this one. Just watch me!”

Louis groans as he pushes up off his stomach and sits so he can give Niall his undivided attention. “Alright, go for it. But your dads are done after this!” Oh god, should he have said that? Is that taking the joke too far?

Harry smiles and gives Louis’s elbow a little bite, followed by a kiss. Not too far, then.

Niall takes a deep breath to prepare himself, then leaps off the back of the boat. He raises his arms on either side of his body, wrists bent and hands angled toward the water, one knee pulled up in front of him. He holds the pose awkwardly until he splashes sideways into the lake.

“Oh! I know it!” Louis jumps up and yells as Niall surfaces.

“Yeah?” Niall asks, thrilled.

“_Karate Kid_! Right? Is that right?” Louis can’t believe he’s this excited over this terrible game.

“Yes!” Niall spins in a circle, skimming his arm along the surface and sending up a wave as he goes.

Louis collapses onto his back, fists in the air, victorious. “Harry, I did it! Did you hear that?”

“I did,” Harry chuckles and crawls over to give Louis a kiss. “I’m so proud.”

Louis grabs Harry by the back of the neck and pulls him on top of him, bringing their lips together and claiming his prize.

“Hey!” Niall flicks water at them as he climbs back into the boat. “Enough of that!”

“Fuck off, Niall,” Louis says, grinning against Harry’s lips.

Harry dissolves into laughter, dropping his head to Louis’s shoulder. Louis laughs with him, wrapping his arms around Harry and holding him to his chest. When they’ve gotten themselves under control a bit, Harry lifts up and looks fondly into Louis’s eyes.

“You’re fun.”

Louis reels him in for another kiss, their smiles so broad that their teeth crash together more than their lips.

“Are you all ready to move on?” Liam and Zayn, awake from their naps at the front of the boat, have joined them.

“Yes!” Niall says. “One last stop though, right?”

“Obviously,” Zayn says as they bump fists.

“Where are we going?” Louis asks.

“Oh, you’ll see.” Louis doesn’t like the way Niall is waggling an eyebrow.

* * *

“Fuck! Harry! I don’t think I can do this.” Louis clings to Harry’s arm as they watch Zayn and Liam ascend the path up the side of a cliff. A rocky cliff. A massive, rocky cliff. That just juts out of the water, stuck onto the side of an island, luring stupid 20-somethings like a fucking siren.

“Lou, you don’t have to! You can just watch me do it.”

“You’re going to jump?” Louis looks at Harry with alarm.

“Well, yeah…I was planning on it. But I can stay here and keep you company if you’d rather.”

“No, I don’t want that. I can do it if you’re doing it. It’s not that high, right?”

“No! Not that high at all. Only like, 30 feet or so.”

“Holy shit.” Louis presses a hand to his forehead. “But it looks higher than it is from down below, right? It must.”

It does not.

After watching Liam and Zayn gleefully leap off the cliff, hand in hand no less, and not die, Louis convinces himself that he can do it. He’s taking risks this vacation. He’s making friends! He’s walking around with his heart laid bare! He’s trying—and failing—to not have permanent heart-eyes whenever Harry is in his general vicinity. Surely all of that is more terrifying than jumping off a little old cliff, right?

“I was wrong,” Louis says, backing away from the cliff’s edge. “I can’t do it. Fuck! I can’t do it! Can I?”

“Sure you can!” Niall is not very empathetic. “Come on, Louis! It’s supposed to be scary. Shitting your pants is half the fun!”

“Pants-shitting is not my idea of fun.”

“It’s metaphorical shitting. You’ll love it.”

“I don’t know if I’ll love it. Harry, am I going to love it?”

“Lou, you seem pretty scared. I don’t know if you’ll love it.” Harry’s brow is furrowed with concern.

“Well, I’m jumping,” Niall gives them a salute. “You don’t have to guess the movie this time.”

With that, he gets a running start and launches himself into the air, howling like a cartoon character as he falls. He sounds like Goofy flying off a ski jump.

“Hey,” Harry walks back from the edge and puts the palm of his hand flat against Louis’s back, between his shoulder blades. “Lou, don’t do it. It’s really ok!”

Louis’s palms are sweating and his breathing is shallow. He wants to be brave. He wants to have fun. Walking back down the path is not brave, nor fun. But fuck! When he looked over the side of that cliff, his stomach leapt out of his body and took off for the woods behind him. It’s probably found a new home with a nice family of squirrels by now.

“I want to…” He cranes his neck to peer over the edge one last time. It can’t really be that bad, right? “But, I can’t. I’m sorry. I just can’t!”

Harry runs a hand down both of Louis’s arms and gives a squeeze. He crouches slightly to position himself in Louis’s line of sight.

“Don’t apologize! It’s super fucking scary!” When Louis finally makes eye contact, Harry pulls him in for a hug. “Let’s go back to the boat.”

“What?” Louis draws back in surprise. “You’re not jumping? You have to jump! Don’t miss out on the fun on my account!”

“Lou, it’s fine!” Harry laughs, gently. “I’d rather stay with you.”

“No way. You were all set to jump. You’re not doing the walk of shame with me.”

He laughs harder, “I think that means something different around here.”

“You know what I mean! Do it. Please.” Louis places a hand on either side of Harry’s face. “Harold. I want to see those shorts fly through the air.”

“With the greatest of ease.”

“You really are a such a dork, Harold.”

“I think you like it.”

Louis kisses him. He does.

When Harry jumps, Louis’s heart is in his throat. That streak of yellow is a sight to behold.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we finally earn our rating.
> 
> Big giant thank you to my wonderful friend and beta maevewren for all of her help!

Back in Harry’s Jeep, Louis feels simultaneously sun-baked and water-logged. The muscles in his arms and legs are pleasantly sore from swimming all day. He looks over to Harry, behind the wheel in nothing but his shorts and flip flops. His skin is golden and tan, despite methodical sunblock reapplication. His hair is wet and stringy, but he’s put it up in a bun as Louis now knows he always does when he drives with the top and doors off.

Louis’s disappointed in himself for not jumping off the cliff. It’s the only dark spot of the day and he’s doing his best to forget about it. But he can’t get the image of Zayn and Liam leaping together, hand in hand, out of his head, wishing he and Harry had done the same.

“I’m not going to take you home, I hope that’s ok.” Harry’s deep honey-rumble of a voice snaps Louis out of a daze.

“Oooh…” Louis wrinkles his nose in distaste. “I don’t think it is ok, Harold. I think I’ve had my fill of you for today.”

Harry gives Louis a dubious look over the tops of his sunglasses. “Is that so?”

“Oh, fuck off, Harry!” Louis laughs and hides his face from Harry.

“Seriously, though! I don’t want to take you home yet. Will you come to my house?”

Louis heart flutters up into his throat. “Are you taking me to meet your parents?”

“No! They’re out of town, don’t worry,” Harry quickly assures him, misunderstanding Louis’s tone.

Louis wasn’t worried; he would have liked to meet Harry’s parents. Or at least to have Harry _want_ him to meet his parents. That’s not a very summer fling-y sort of thing to do, though. The fluttering starts to dissipate.

“I want to make you dinner.” Harry looks away from the road briefly, catching Louis’s eye. “Please?”

“I guess that’s ok,” Louis sighs sarcastically. “I think I need to hose off, though.”

“That’s not a problem. I have just the thing.”

Louis watches Harry warily. “It better not be a hose.”

Harry’s house is on a residential street, a few turns away from the center of town. It’s set back from the road, nestled among the trees separating it from its neighbors. It’s a modest white cape with gabled windows along the roof, a red front door and green shutters. Even without his parents here, Louis can’t help but feel a little thrill at getting a deeper glimpse into Harry’s life. Harry parks the Jeep in front of the garage, but instead of taking Louis inside, he leads him around the back of the house.

“You have a shower outside!” Louis is delighted by this discovery.

“Yes! The outdoor shower, a welcome addition to any home whose inhabitants spend half their waking hours at the beach.”

The shower enclosure is made of worn wooden fencing that has turned gray and gone a bit mossy in places. There’s a door that latches shut and Louis can see a small wooden bench against one wall.

“I’ll get you a clean towel and then I can start dinner?”

“You’ll what?” Louis turns to Harry, incredulous.

“I’ll start cooking…what?” Harry’s looking a little flushed.

“Harold.” Louis takes a slow step toward Harry, his eyes locked on Harry’s face, Harry scrunching up his nose and trying not to smile. “Are you trying to tell me you’re going to bring me to your house, show me your outdoor shower, then just walk away and chop vegetables? While I’m out here by myself? Naked. And wet. And naked.”

Louis has stopped directly in front of Harry, arms crossed over his chest, not touching, looking up slightly at Harry’s eyes, which are looking everywhere but at Louis.

“I mean.” Harry runs a nervous hand through his hair. “I didn’t want to be presumptuous,” he practically stage-whispers. As if he’s all of a sudden so shy. Louis doesn’t buy it.

“I’m not going in there by myself, Harry.” He drops his voice down to meet Harry’s. “What if a bear comes?”

That gets a magnificent laugh out of Harry. “Is that what you’re getting at?” His eyes are gleaming as he finally meets Louis’s gaze. “I’ll keep watch while you’re in there, how does that sound?”

“No good.” Louis shakes his head. Despite their close proximity, he takes another step toward Harry, forcing him to take a step back, putting him up against the open shower door. “What if the bear gets you, then comes after me? It’ll have a taste for human flesh and won’t be able to resist me.”

They’re practically nose to nose now; Harry’s breathing has gotten heavy. Louis’s last words hang in the air around them, mingling with the humidity and the scent of pine trees.

“So what you’re saying is…” Harry’s voice is soft and gravelly. “You need me. To come in the shower. With you.”

“Yes, please,” Louis says softly. He lowers his eyes to Harry’s lips and waits a beat. “I’m just really afraid of bears.”

Harry quickly turns his head to the side and unsuccessfully tries to contain his laughter.

“I didn’t want you to think I brought you here just to get you naked in my shower!” he practically shouts, laughing still.

“Didn’t you?” Louis asks skeptically.

Harry covers his face with his hands and groans with embarrassment, “No!” He drags his hands down until they’re pressed over his mouth. Louis can see in his eyes that he’s suppressing a grin. “Just a happy coincidence?” he says through his hands.

Louis pulls Harry’s hands away from his face.

“Very happy.” Louis reels him in for a kiss.

Harry relaxes into it, and for a moment the kiss is soft and sweet.

“Mmphf…” Harry pushes Louis back. “Seriously though, I feel like a creep. This wasn’t my plan, I—”

“Harry!” Louis presses his fingers to Harry’s lips. “Do you not want to take a shower with me?”

Harry’s eyes go wide. “No, I do!”

“Really?”

“Yes. I do. I promise.”

“Then get in there and turn the fucking water on already.”

Harry pecks Louis on the lips, takes in his face for a moment, then moves to turn the shower on.

“It takes a minute to warm up so—”

Louis strips his t-shirt off and pushes Harry down onto the wooden bench.

“Oof!”

Louis straddles Harry’s lap and places a hand against the wall above his shoulder. He hovers above him, the still-cold spray of the shower misting over his back.

“You know, for someone who came on so strong at first, you’ve been playing things surprisingly cool.”

Harry looks a bit conflicted. He reaches up and puts a hand to Louis’s cheek. “It’s different, you know? Being loud and flirty to get you to like me is one thing. Pushing myself on you to get your clothes off makes me a predator. Not to mention the fact that coming on strong didn’t work so well with you, did it?”

“Hmmm, I guess you’re right.” Louis puts a knee up on the bench on either side of Harry, then lowers himself onto his lap. “Maybe it’s my turn now?”

Harry circles his arm around Louis’s waist. “I like that idea.”

“Is this ok?”

“Yes.”

Louis slides forward, their bodies fitting together; he lowers his face to Harry’s ear.

“This?”

“Yes_,_” Harry exhales.

Louis leaves a trail of slow and deliberate kisses along the underside of Harry’s jaw, finally, _finally_, making his way to his chin, his lips. Louis rocks his hips and presses into Harry.

“_Yes,” _Harry moans, not waiting for the question. He slides his hands down Louis’s back, catching on the edge of his waistband, hands spreading across Louis’s backside, pulling him even closer.

When the spray behind him grows hot, the air turning steamy, Louis stands and takes Harry’s hands in his.

After the disappointment of not jumping off the cliff with the rest of the boys, Louis feels like he’s reclaiming something in this shower. He was chicken shit earlier, but now he’s brave as anything. In some ways, dragging Harry under the hot spray of water feels like a bigger leap than the one he was too scared to make this afternoon.

Louis’s back is against the opposite side of the enclosure and he’s pulled Harry to him. Louis is still taken aback by Harry’s seeming change of course. He acted mortified that Louis might think he had lascivious intent. He’s so much more considerate and kind-hearted than Louis ever expected. The thought turns Louis on almost as much as Harry’s wet body pressing him into the wall. Almost.

Harry leans down over Louis, their faces angled together. It feels like Louis is completely enclosed by Harry’s body, his arms, his lips, his hair hanging in curtains on either side of Louis’s field of vision. Their lips crash together, over and over; the long day of soft touches and gentle kisses within sight of their friends has built up a wave of need that neither of them knew was there until the dam broke.

The water is hot and raining down over Harry’s back, running in rivulets over his shoulders, his waist, onto Louis. Louis has had his hands buried in Harry’s hair, but now he disentangles them and runs them slowly down Harry’s back, caressing every muscle and rib as he does. He reaches down below Harry’s shorts and wraps his hands around the backs of Harry’s legs, his fingers reaching around and pressing into his inner thighs. Harry gasps, then pulls in tighter around Louis, something that shouldn’t even be possible; they’re so close already. He presses his hips against Louis’s, palms holding Louis’s jaw, and deepens their kiss. Louis feels like he’s being buried in an avalanche of Harry, and he doesn’t mind one bit. Louis runs his fingers under the bottom hem of Harry’s shorts, back and forth across his thighs, raising the fabric a little further with each pass. Eventually Louis is tracing the crease between Harry’s cheeks and his legs. The way his muscles are clenching and shifting under Louis’s fingertips is making it hard for Louis to catch his breath.

Louis pulls Harry against him, both of them still clothed from the waist down but hard and straining against their shorts. He licks into Harry’s mouth one last time, then slips down and out of his arms to retrieve a bottle of body wash from the shower floor. Harry turns and collapses against the wall, his breath coming fast and heavy, his eyes turned up to the sky.

“Holy fuck, Louis.” His chest is heaving. “I think I’m going to implode.”

“Not yet, you’re not,” Louis says as he flicks the bottle open. “You’ve still got your shorts on.”

Harry lets out a strangled laugh.

With a palmful of body wash, Louis rubs his hands together, then approaches Harry. He starts at his shoulders, his clavicles, Louis’s hands gliding over the swallows on Harry’s chest, leaving soapy trails across his honeyed skin. Harry’s palms are pressed against the wall, his head thrown back, his eyes now closed. He’s breathing forcefully through his nose as Louis works his way lower and lower, skimming over Harry’s pectorals, fingertips dragging across his nipples, soaping up his soft little pooch of a belly and the hard jut of his hips.

When Louis finally reaches the top of Harry’s yellow shorts (blessed be thy name) he runs just the tip of a finger along the inside of the waistband. He leans in to kiss Harry, just below his earlobe, nudging his hair out of the way with his nose. Harry sucks in a breath through his teeth as Louis whispers in his ear.

“Can I?”

“Yes,” Harry tells Louis desperately. He lets go of the wall to bring his hands to his head, fisting into his sopping wet hair.

Louis kisses him again, this time trailing his lips down Harry’s neck before taking a half step back. He slips his fingers under the elastic at Harry’s waist, then gently pulls the shorts out and down, all the way to his ankles. Louis gazes up at Harry. Completely exposed, so big and so beautiful. His hands tangled in his hair, his face contorted, almost in pain. Frothy suds are drifting down his stomach and mingling with his dark hair.

Louis stands, his hands gathering bubbles that are running down Harry’s legs, his thumbs pressing into Harry’s thighs as he does. He leans close, kissing Harry sweetly. This beautiful, kind man. Louis is in awe of him and of himself for standing here, being the one allowed to touch him, taste him. Louis’s hand passes between their bodies and finally wraps around Harry.

“Ah!” he cries out into Louis’s mouth at the contact.

“Good?” Louis asks.

“Fuck, Lou,” he breathes. “So good.”

Harry presses his forehead to Louis’s shoulder, his hands locked behind his neck, as Louis works him over. His muscles grow tense.

“Mmm—wait,” he says into Louis’s neck. “Not yet.”

“Are you okay?”

A kiss. “Almost,” Harry says.

With their lips locked together, Harry reaches into Louis swim trunks and pulls him free. His fingers on Louis’s skin feel electric. His entire body contracts.

Harry bends his knees slightly, lowering his body and aligning his hips with Louis’s. His fingers are so long, he wraps them around both of them and slowly begins to pull. The feeling of their flesh pressed together, Harry’s hand holding them tight, fans the flames already burning inside Louis. They cling to each other, the rhythm of Harry’s hand countering the rocking of their hips. Louis watches Harry’s face as he cries out, spilling over himself and Louis. The waves ofpleasure Louis sees radiating out of Harry are too much. He soon follows, collapsing against Harry’s body when he’s done.

Harry’s chest rumbles with a laugh.

“What’s funny?” Louis pants, too boneless to lift his head from Harry’s shoulder.

“Not funny, just…” His arms tighten around Louis’s ribcage. “That was good, Lou. That was really good.”

“Mmm…” Louis relishes the feeling of Harry’s chest against his, their mess squashed between their bellies, not giving one single fuck. “Harold…I think I’ve discovered your secret superpower.”

* * *

Inside the house, clean and dry, Harry has left Louis alone in his bedroom while he finally goes to start dinner. Louis has been told he can grab something warm and comfortable out of Harry’s drawer, his own t-shirt and shorts having been abandoned in the backyard. Of course, all of Harry’s clothes are going to be big on Louis. He pulls on a gray hooded sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, tying the drawstring at his waist and pushing up the sleeves so the cuffs don’t hang over his hands. They refuse to stay in place as he enters the kitchen, barefoot and sweater-pawed.

Harry’s back is to the door; he’s focused on chopping something, wielding a hefty chef’s knife over a thick wooden cutting board. At the sound of Louis’s shuffling feet he glances over his shoulder.

“Oh my god.” Harry turns around completely, the knife still in his hand.

“What?” Louis turns self-consciously, to see if there’s something behind him. Seeing nothing he asks, “What is it?”

Harry quickly deposits the knife on the cutting board and crosses the room to Louis, approaching like he doesn’t want to startle him.

“It’s just—” He wraps his arms around Louis, crouching slightly to really get at Louis’s torso, leaving his arms free. “YOU. Oh my god, you’re so cute. I can’t believe how squishy you are!” Harry nuzzles his nose into Louis’s chest and breathes deeply.

“Hmm,” Louis furrows his brow. “Not sure if I want to be cute, though.”

Harry pulls back and examines him, stretching Louis’s arms out straight from his body so he can get a really good look. He practically has hearts for eyes.

“Well I have to say, it’s really working for me.”

Louis laughs and rolls his eyes. “I guess I can live with it, then.”

Harry reels him in for a soft kiss.

“What are you making me for dinner?” Louis asks.

“Mmm…nothing now. My hands are busy squishing you.” Harry’s arms encircle Louis’s waist, Louis’s are up around Harry’s neck. They rock side to side like a couple of middle schoolers slow dancing.

“I can’t be squished forever, Harold. All this activity has made me hungry.”

Harry gives one last squeeze, then releases him. “Okay! I’m on it. We are having Penne all’Arrabbiata.” He rolls his r’s with an exaggerated Italian pronunciation.

“Sounds fancy, Giada.” Louis follows him over to the cutting board and gives him a small hip check.

Harry laughs. “Not very fancy. A little spicy. Very tasty.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Harold.”

“It’s also very quick to make so we will be eating very soon.” He scrapes up a pile of garlic and onions with the edge of his knife and drops them into a pan on the stove. “Do you want a glass of wine? I got out a bottle and there’s an opener in the drawer there.”

“Fuck, Harry! This _is _fancy! We’re like actual adults here.” Louis fetches the bottle opener.

“That was a very adult shower we just took. We deserve an adult meal after that.”

“Is that standard practice around here? Fun in the shower followed by a romantic dinner?” Louis pours two glasses of wine.

“You know, I’ve never actually brought someone in the shower before.”

Louis’s wine glass freezes midway to his mouth. “Never?”

“No, never.” Harry dumps dried pasta into a pot of boiling water. He turns to face Louis. “What? Does that surprise you?”

“A little bit, yeah!”

Harry’s lips quirk up into a smug little pout as he opens a can of tomatoes. “I guess you _still _don’t know me that well.”

“I guess not…” Louis trails off, slightly mystified, bringing his glass to his lips.

Harry’s pasta is delicious, as advertised. They bring giant bowls of it and too-full glasses of red wine to the family room and sit face to face on the couch, their legs entangled and their feet tucked under one another. Harry intends to put a movie on but they’re too busy talking and laughing and eating and drinking to bother choosing anything.

When the pasta bowls have been put in the kitchen sink and the last of the wine is distributed between their glasses, Harry takes up the remote again.

“Okay, I’m serious this time. What should we watch, Lou?”

The wine has weakened Louis’s defenses and he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face at hearing the nickname.

Harry notices.

“Oh my god,” Harry says, in a suspicious tone. “What is that look for?”

Louis wipes a hand down his face and tries to get his cheeks to chill out. Just a little! Geez. Fucking wine.

“Ugh!” He throws his head back with a sigh. “I maybe, kind of...like it when you call me that.”

Harry sits up, suddenly at rapt attention. “Call you what? Lou?”

Louis squirms uncomfortably, but his smile grows. “Yesssss,” he says quietly, avoiding eye contact.

“Wow.” Harry flops back against the couch and runs a hand through his hair. “This is— I mean. Louis Tomlinson. Telling me he actually likes something that I do. This is so unexpected, I’m not sure how to handle it.” He’s sitting there with his eyes wide and his fingers working his bottom lip.

“Oh fuck off,” Louis laughs. He hits Harry’s arm with the back of his hand. “This isn’t the first time.”

“No, that’s true. But usually your compliments sound like insults if taken out of context.”

“No! I don’t accept that! That makes me sound like a monster! Like a master of negging. I’m not that! Am I?”

Harry wrinkles his nose and shrugs his shoulders. He’s enjoying this. Ordinarily, Louis would dig his heels in, never willing to concede even a little bit of ground to a partner. But Harry...as much as he knows Harry’s teasing, he can tell there’s a little bit of truth behind the jokes. And Harry’s too good. Harry doesn’t deserve to feel underappreciated, even a little.

Louis takes a deep breath. “Ok, here it goes. Things I like about you.”

“No! No no no no no,” Harry laughs as he attempts to cover Louis’s mouth with one hand, his other on Louis chest, pushing him into the couch cushions. Louis grabs his wrist and pulls his hand down. He doesn’t let go.

“I’m doing this, Harold. You’ve brought it upon yourself. Number one! I like your hair.”

Harry hides his face against the back of the couch.

“Number two! Your yellow shorts.”

Harry moans a bit, his cries muffled by the cushion.

“Number three!” He pulls on Harry’s wrists and brings him closer. “Your ass in your yellow shorts.”

“Louis, I’m blushing!”

“If you think that’s bad, wait ‘til you hear number four.”

“Ooh, I think I can guess...”

At the same time they both say “Your ass out of your yellow shorts.”

That gets the biggest, horsiest bray of a laugh out of Harry to date. He collapses back onto the sofa and pulls Louis on top of him.

“Number five…” Louis’s voice has gone husky and quiet. He lowers his lips to Harry’s and says, “Your taste.”

Harry exhales the tiniest moan, then crushes their mouths together.

Louis stops counting after that.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big giant thank you to my wonderful friend and beta maevewren for all of her help!

Louis wakes the following morning in an unfamiliar bed. No, not unfamiliar, just new. Same goes for the boy still sleeping next to him. He hadn’t planned to sleep over, but kissing on the sofa turned into groping on the rug, and why trade orgasms on the floor when there’s a perfectly good bed just upstairs, ready and willing to serve? Harry drained him dry, leaving nothing but a twitching pile of nerves, intolerant of any sensation other than the feeling of Harry’s broad chest beneath Louis’s cheek, his hand held firmly to Louis’s back, his face nestled in Louis’s hair. They fell asleep like that, the thought of leaving never crossing Louis’s mind once he was ensconced within this bubble of Harry.

They’ve moved apart in the night, no longer embracing. Louis raises himself up to watch Harry sleep. His hair is splayed across the pillow and his back rises and falls so subtly Louis barely sees it happening. He thinks back to the things he said last night, the list of things he likes about Harry. All superficial. Far from complete. There are so many more things that he couldn’t bear to say out loud and he wonders now why that is.

The biggest reason, Louis thinks, is that Harry was a stranger nine days ago. Isn’t it weird to tell someone you’ve just met how kind they are? How caring and thoughtful? It feels like Louis shouldn’t know all of this. Like he doesn’t have the right to form these opinions just yet. But he does know it; no one could convince him otherwise. So, why couldn’t he tell Harry?

A low groan emits out of Harry’s mouth, his eyes still shut tight, his body starting to shift and stretch. God, he’s fucking beautiful.

Harry opens one eye and smiles.

“Good morning.” His voice is hoarse.

Louis flops back down onto the pillow. “Hi.” He feels suddenly shy. What is wrong with him?

“Can I tell you something?” Harry is rubbing his eyes and scratching his scalp. He’s like a goddamn kitten waking up from a nap.

Louis nods.

“Last night was…” He rolls onto his back and stretches his arms over his head. “So fucking fun.”

Louis hides his face in the pillow and laughs. It _was _fun. Last night was fun, and Harry is lovely, and Louis decides that he’s tired of holding back. Who cares if he’s only known Harry for a week? Who cares if he’s only going to know him for a handful of days more? Fuck it. Louis’s going to enjoy Harry and enjoy himself.

“I have to work until four, but do you think—”

Louis cuts him off. “Nope.”

Harry looks stricken.

“_I _was wondering if _you_ wanted to do something tonight.”

“_Lou_,” Harry says, his voice hushed. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“I am. Is that so hard to believe?”

“I mean, yes, it is absolutely hard to believe, so I’m going to accept before you have a chance to get spooked and rescind the offer.”

Louis covers his face and groans, “Harold! Am I really that bad?”

Harry crawls over and hovers above Louis, a hand braced on either side of his head.

“You are _for sure_ that bad. But I still like you. So much.” Even with his eyes closed, Louis can hear the smile in Harry’s voice. “I meant what I said. I had the best time last night. And not just because of the multiple orgasms.”

Louis brings his hands to his jaw, eyes wide and lips pursed.

“This week has been the best week,” Harry says, his eyes locked on Louis’s.

He is nothing but pure sincerity, Louis thinks. He wants to return the favor but the best his cynical, sarcastic nature can do is maintain eye contact, give a shy smile.

Harry seems to understand.

“Lou,” he says.

“Yes Harry?”

“I really want to kiss you right now, but considering we’re both completely naked, I feel like I should ask.”

Louis laughs and nods his consent. Harry drops down on top of him, lips and bodies pressing together. Soft in places, hard in others, and so warm. Louis wants as much of this as he can possibly fit into the next five days.

* * *

“Well good morning, my son!”

Louis has slipped in the sliding glass door at the back of the house, hoping to avoid notice. No such luck. His mom and oldest sisters are gathered in the kitchen.

“Louis William, what did you do?” Emily asks from the table. She and Nora laugh over their bowls of cereal, milk dribbling out of their mouths.

Louis sneers their way and extends a conspicuous middle finger.

“Louis,” Kate swats at him with a dish towel. “Is that necessary?”

“Sorry, Mom.” He kisses her cheek.

“There’s coffee if you want it. Have you eaten?”

“Yeah, I’ll bet he’s eaten,” Emily mutters under her breath. Nora snorts milk out her nose.

“What part of this did you not understand?” This time there’s a middle finger for each of them.

“Sweetheart, please.” Kate rolls her eyes, exasperated but affectionate. She pours him a cup. “Girls, go get changed. We’re leaving soon.”

The girls shuffle out of the kitchen, cackling between the two of them. Louis can’t avoid it anymore; he looks Kate in the eye.

Her eyebrows raised, she gives him a knowing smirk.

“Jesus Christ, Mom,” he says, flopping down in a chair.

“What?” She bats her eyes innocently. “Did you have a nice time?”

“Yeah. I did.” He can’t be too annoyed with her.

“I’m glad.” She puts a hand over one of Louis’s. “Glad that you’re having a good time here and glad that you’ve met someone. Harry’s lovely.”

“Umph,” Louis moans as he drops his head into his hand. “He really is. He’s a little bit too lovely, actually.”

“What do you mean, too lovely?”

“I just…” he trails off. He was in such a good mood. Now he feels it draining away.

“Why did I have to meet him here? On vacation, for fuck’s sake. I finally get something _good_ in my life and I only have it for the next five days. And worse than that, I don’t even know if it’s real! What if I met Harry at home? Would he even be interested? What if he’s only like this because he knows there’s a time limit on me.”

“Oh Lou, I’m sure that’s not the case.”

“I don’t know Mom, he basically said as much. Summer flings are what he does.”

“He told you that?”

“Yeah. He did. He says he loves getting to know someone new, even if it’s only for a short time. Something about burning hot and fast, or whatever.”

“Hmm.” She rubs the back of his hand. “I don’t think it’s doing you any good to dwell on this. Harry seems like such a genuine person. Sounds to me like he was just trying to be honest. You need to make the most of your time together. Enough with all these ‘what ifs.’”

“I know. You’re right. I’m trying.”

“Good. It’s been really nice to see you so happy. Don’t let go of that before you have to.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Louis stands, kisses her on the forehead. He’s got a date to plan.

* * *

“Lou, I’m just going to say it…I feel like Cinderella right now.”

Louis rolls his eyes as he closes the car door behind Harry. Since he’s the one planning tonight’s activities, he only felt right borrowing his parents van to drive Harry for once, as inelegant as the car may be.

“Harry, I think even a pumpkin would be better than the family truckster here.”

“The family truckster! You’re so right. I’m not Cinderella, I’m Beverly D’Angelo in _Family Vacation_.”

“So I’m Chevy Chase?”

“Better him than the dog tied to the bumper, right?”

“Harold!” Louis is aghast. “That’s dark. So unlike you.” He shakes his head.

“Can I start calling you Sparky?”

“I think I’d rather you didn’t?” Louis laughs.

“I think it’s a pretty great pet name. It’s unique, it’s fun and playful, not too lovey-dovey. I’m going to try it out.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. Harry seems quite pleased with himself, his eyes sparkling, absolute mirth playing across his face. Louis won’t admit this, but if Harry wants to give him a pet name, that’s all Louis needs to know. He doesn’t give a fuck _what_ it is.

“Knock yourself out.” Louis relents, turning his body to back out of the driveway.

“Hey, wait a second.” Harry puts a hand on Louis’s to stop him putting the van in reverse, then grabs him by the front of his shirt and pulls him across the center console into a kiss. “Thank you. Sparky.”

* * *

“_Jaws_? That’s a pretty bold choice! What if I’m too much of a scaredy-cat?” Harry holds his hands to his cheeks as he watches Louis unload a canvas boat bag and a quilt from the back of the van.

“I considered that,” Louis says, hoisting the bag onto his shoulder and handing Harry the quilt. “And I decided only good can come of you being scared shitless lying next to me on a quilt in the park.”

Harry nudges Louis with an elbow as they make their way through the crowd to find an open spot on the grass.

“That’s cute.”

“What is?” Louis asks, scanning the park.

“You thinking about cuddling me.”

Louis opens his mouth to say something snide but he’s at a loss. Instead, he smirks and shrugs his shoulders. “Ooh, great spot, right over there!”

They spread out the quilt and Louis unpacks the bag.

“Louis Tomlinson, look at what you’ve done!” Harry’s marveling at each item as Louis lays out the spread. Cheese, salami, olives, crusty bread, strawberries, wine. “Sparky, I’m touched.”

“Are you really going to call me that?” Louis laughs as he folds up the bag and puts it to the side.

“I’m trying it out. Seeing how it feels.”

“And how does it feel so far?”

“So far? _Excellent_.”

Louis throws his head back and groans, but he can’t keep a smile off his face.

“Really though, Lou, this is so sweet. I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

“Well,” Louis is fighting every fiber of his being to not be a jackass right now. Harry deserves sincerity. “You’ve been so great taking me out this past week. I always have such a wonderful time with you. I needed to return the favor.”

“Lou, you didn’t _have_ to. I love taking you out.”

“You’re right. ‘Need’ is the wrong word. I _wanted_ to return the favor.” He looks up into Harry’s eyes. “I’m not the best at saying how I feel, but I can let the cheese do the talking.”

Harry laughs at that, then pounces at Louis, pushing him back onto the quilt and hovering over him on hands and knees.

“Thank you,” Harry says. “For the cheese. Sparky.” Before Louis can even think to protest, Harry leans down and kisses him.

The sun has nearly set, leaving the sky a brilliant wash of pinks and purples. Harry and Louis sit hunched over the remains of their picnic, a scattered mess of cheese rind, olive pits and bread crumbs. Their legs are crossed, Louis’s knee resting on Harry’s thigh. They talk quietly within their little bubble, a guffaw occasionally breaking free, the wine almost gone. Every so often, a hand reaches out to tuck a lock of hair behind an ear, or brush a crumb off a lip, or give a small squeeze wherever it might be needed. The sound of crickets can barely be heard over the din of the crowd and the smell of freshly mown grass mingles with the smell of sun-baked skin and clean hair.

They are pulled out of their bubble by the sound of a marching band tuning in the distance. Harry perks up and swivels his head around, looking for the source.

“Lou, it’s the high school marching band!” he says. “It’s _my_ high school marching band!”

The band reveals itself around the side of the movie screen and marches out to the strains of some patriotic song or another. Louis can never keep them straight.

“_You_ were in marching band? I thought you gave up band in elementary school?”

“I gave up trumpet, but I still did marching band. In a town this size practically everyone is either obsessed with sports or joins the band.” He shrugs, as if this makes perfect sense.

“So wait, you joined the band but you didn’t play an instrument. What did you _do?_”

“I was in the color guard!” Harry takes a sip of his wine.

Louis blinks at him a few times, then turns his head to stare off into the middle distance.

“What?” Harry chuckles. “Why are you being weird?”

“No, I’m not—” Louis shakes his head to try to snap himself out of his trance. “I’m just— I don’t know if I will ever get the image of you twirling around and throwing a flag up in the air out of my head. And I haven’t even seen it; this is all just my imagination!”

“Louis! Are you making fun of me? I’ll have you know those tosses take some real skill! And I was _good_.”

Louis laughs. “I’m sure you were, Harold. I just keep forgetting that someone as hot and popular as you are can be such a major dork.”

Harry blinks at him calmly. He reaches out and takes Louis’s cup of wine, placing it alongside his own, nestled in the grass to the side of the quilt. When he’s confident that the wine is secure, he turns to Louis, who is watching him, confused and intrigued, and attacks. Harry’s long fingers dig into Louis’s abdomen, knocking him over, eliciting howls of laughter and pleas to relent.

“Harold!” Louis gasps. “I take it back, I’m sorry! I take it all back!”

Harry’s hands still, fingers splayed across Louis’s stomach. “You tease, but I think you like that I’m a dork.”

Louis sighs, his eyes watering from laughing so hard. “I do,” he says, forcing himself to hold Harry’s gaze because he means it, and Harry should know. “I like _you_. A lot.”

The smile that spreads across Harry’s face makes Louis’s heart trip over itself. He leans in and nudges Louis’s hair away, his mouth so close and his breath warm against Louis’s ear.

“You also just said I was hot.”

When the sky is dark, the movie begins. Fireflies flit among the throngs of audience members, twinkling their attempt to rival the stars on this cloudless night. The wine is gone, the air is muggy and the movie is sufficiently scary to have Harry glued to Louis’s side. Their heads are propped up on a makeshift pillow of their sweatshirts stuffed inside the boat bag. Harry’s arm is wrapped around Louis’s shoulders. He occasionally pulls him in closer, plants a soft kiss in his hair. Louis thinks he never wants this to end.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big giant thank you to my wonderful friend and beta maevewren for all of her help!

_Lou_

_Louis_

_Louuuuuuuuuuu_

_Lou it’s raining and I’m bored when is your sweet ass coming to rescue me?!?!?! Xxxxxxx_

_I’m gazing wistfully out the rainy window like Joey Tribiani here_

_Where are youuuuuuuuuuu?????_

Louis steps out of the shower to find his phone buzzing away, message after message rolling in from Harry.

_Harold! You’re blowing up my spot. Why are you working, it’s pouring down rain._

_I have no choice! I have to stay here through my shift, just in case the rain stops. Pleeeeeaaaaassssseeeee LOU_

Louis smiles. What the fuck did Harry do before he had Louis to keep him company?

_What the fuck did you do before you had me to keep you company?_

_I was SO BORED._

_And sad._

_And lonely._

_(And horny)_

_AND BORED._

Louis laughs.

_Were your past flings so bad at entertaining you?_

Three dots. Then nothing. Then three dots. Nothing. Still nothing.

Shit, Louis thinks. That was a mistake. Maybe he shouldn’t be teasing Harry about his past. He quickly sends another text.

_Getting dressed. Be right there! Try to hang on. Xxx L_

* * *

“Harry?”

“Lou! You’re totally drenched! Are there no umbrellas at your rental?”

“I’m sure there are, I slipped out during a break in the storm and thought I could make it.”

“Looks like you thought wrong, Sparky.” Harry watches him from across the room.

“Yeah, I noticed.” Louis stands in the doorway, his hooded sweatshirt absolutely soaked and clinging to his body. “Um, is there a towel around here I can use?”

“Oh, yeah.” Harry seems to shake himself out of a trance. “Sorry! I got distracted. I’ll go get one.”

He trots across the room, into the storage closet/men’s room on the far side.

“Thanks,” Louis calls, taking down his hood. “Um…about what I said earlier…”

“Huh?” Harry pops his head out of the closet.

“I mean, texted. About what I texted earlier? Past flings?”

“Oh yeah.” Harry emerges with a towel. His brow furrows. “Yeah, I—I wanted to say something about that. I don’t want you to—”

“Harry, please.” Louis holds a hand out to interrupt him. “I’m sorry. That was shitty of me. I have no right to tease you about that.”

“No, it’s fine! That’s not what I—”

“I get what this is, and it’s fine. I mean, it’s great! It’s not cool of me to bring up all of your previous ‘Sparkys.’”

“Lou, they weren’t—”

“Harold,” Louis gulps, doing his best to squash his insecurities and at least put on an air of confidence. He steps toward Harry, putting his hands over Harry’s and the towel. “This has been the greatest trip to a mosquito-infested lake town _I’ve _ever had. That’s all thanks to you.”

Harry’s eyes skate over his face; he seems to soften a bit, something unpleasant fading from his expression. Louis leans in and kisses him.

“I’m going to write you a review on TripAdvisor. Harry Styles, summer fling: five stars, would recommend.” Louis’s lips travel down, to the soft spot below Harry’s jaw. He thinks he feels Harry grow still, tense. But as he opens his mouth slightly, gently sucking at Harry’s skin, audibly breathing in the scent of him, Harry relaxes. His shoulders sag, his head drops to the side, giving Louis better access. One of Harry’s hands leaves the towel and slides up to the nape of Louis’s neck, intertwining with his hair.

“Oh Lou!” Harry pulls back. “You’re soaked! Stop distracting me. Let me dry you off.” He drapes the towel over Louis’s head and ruffles his hair.

Louis peers out from underneath the towel. He sees the concern in the set of Harry’s brow. His teeth are clenched, his lips pursed.

“Thank you,” Louis says.

“Of course, Lou. Can I help you out of this?” Harry takes hold of the zipper pull on Louis’s sweatshirt.

“Yeah. Please.”

Harry unzips the sweatshirt and peels it off Louis’s arms. He holds the waterlogged thing in his hands, contemplating where to put it and looking up to Louis’s face. He seems subdued.

“Harold, is everything ok?” Louis asks.

Harry holds his gaze for a few moments more. There’s something in his expression, in his eyes, that Louis can’t quite grasp. He watches, chasing it around in his mind as long as he has Harry’s eyes on him, then losing the thread. Harry looks down, seems to shake himself out of whatever it was. He takes one last look at the dripping hoodie in his hands before tossing it aside and stepping into Louis’s space, forcing him to walk backward until his back is against the closed door to the clubhouse.

“Sparky?”

“Yea—Yes, Harry?”

“I’m glad you’re having a good time.” He’s crowded in around Louis, using his height advantage to hover above Louis’s face, eyes locked on his lips, hands pressed to the door over Louis’s shoulders. “But it’s taking way too long for me to get you out of these wet clothes and I really thought I’d have your dick in my mouth by now.”

“_Harold,_” Louis gasps. Harry doesn’t back down. “What if someone comes in here?”

Harry’s lip curls and Louis swears he hears him growl before closing the distance between them. He’s kissing Louis like there’s something he needs to understand, like this is the only way to communicate. Harry’s lips are firm and prodding and he immediately pulls Louis’s bottom lip between his teeth, not biting, but making sure Louis feels the scrape against his skin. Harry runs his tongue along it, inhaling sharply through his nose. His hands find their way to the hem of Louis’s t-shirt and he breaks the suction of their lips just long enough to tear it up over Louis’s head. He throws the shirt away from them, as if blaming it for keeping Louis clothed for so long. His mouth is on Louis’s mouth, his tongue on Louis’s tongue, his hands on Louis’s chest, and shoulders, and arms, and chest, and…

“Lou,” Harry pulls back, suddenly, panting. “I’m sorry. Is this—-”

“Ok?” Louis interrupts him. “Harold, yes. I really thought you’d have my dick in your mouth by now.”

This time, there’s no mistaking it. Harry growls.

He sinks his fingers inside the waistband of Louis’s shorts, fingertips grazing hair but going no further.

“Come here, Sparky.” He pulls Louis away from the door and walks him backward to the nearest sofa. He spins Louis around and tips him back over the arm of the couch, his eyes locked on Louis’s face, an intensity there that’s new.

Louis scrambles backward, thrilled and a little nervous at this stare Harry is giving him. He feels locked in, not only by the look, but by the uncertainty of what will happen if he looks away. Harry is crawling over him now, slowly and deliberately, prowling like a cat, the sway of his hips positively feline. Louis releases a nervous giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Harry asks, still never breaking his gaze.

“N-nothing!” Louis stammers, even as more laughter bubbles up from his chest.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“I—no, it’s—Har—” Louis makes a sharp intake of breath as Harry lowers his mouth to Louis’s hip. He tastes Louis’s skin, a small taste, then touches the tip of his nose to the softness on the side of Louis’s waist. He barely makes contact, slowly dragging along the curve above Louis’s pelvis. Louis can feel hot breath puff against his skin, cooling the spot where Harry’s tongue has left Louis wet and glistening.

Harry moves so slowly toward the center of Louis’s belly, Louis almost doesn’t believe he’s moving at all. They’re barely touching; Harry’s lips occasionally brushing just the tips of Louis’s hair. Louis can’t remember a time when he was so turned on. He’s so hard already, straining against the front of his shorts; his skin is a field of static electricity. He bucks his hips involuntarily, bumping Harry’s chest.

Harry raises his head, making eye contact.

“What is it, Lou?” he says with a smirk. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Fuck, Harry!” Louis runs his hands through his hair, gripping the tufts hard enough to hurt. He stutters out a whimpering laugh. “You’re such a fucking tease!”

“Well,” Harry says into Louis’s belly. He hooks a finger into Louis’s waistband and pulls it down on the left hand side, just a couple inches, just enough for Louis’s hip to be exposed. “You’ve always known that about me, haven’t you? I love to tease.”

“I have, and I also never liked being teased by you,” Louis says with a groan, hands covering his face now. Harry’s finger has left his hip and is now tracing along the top of Louis’s ass, just inside his shorts. Harry has turned his attention back to Louis’s groin and he’s letting his chin and lips just graze the outline of Louis’s still clothed (very clothed), hard (_very_ hard) dick. When Harry speaks, Louis feels the vibrations of his voice shoot straight to his core.

“Are you telling me you don’t like this?” Harry rumbles, his voice thick and dark.

“I—” Louis tries to protest but Harry suddenly grasps the elastic around Louis’s waist and pulls. Harry’s face is immediately back to Louis’s groin, mouth open slightly, eyes closed, breathing him in. The tip of Louis’s cock rests against Harry’s cheekbone.

“Yeah, Lou? Should I stop?”

Louis raises his hips again. “No, Harry…please—”

Watching Harry watching him, Louis sees a flash of soft affection break through the animal intensity, for the briefest of moments. It makes his heart swell almost as much as his cock. Almost.

Harry runs a palm up Louis’s stomach, over his sternum and across his pectoral, lightly dragging across a nipple. He gives the head of Louis’s dick a firm, wet kiss, before taking it into his mouth.

“Ah!” Louis cries out, the heat of Harry’s mouth sending a bolt of electricity through his entire body. He looks down. Harry’s eyes are closed but the corners of his mouth turn up as he focuses on Louis.

Louis has kicked his shorts off, over the back of the couch and he brings his legs up to wrap around Harry. His thighs press to the sides of Harry’s ribcage, slipping against his nylon windbreaker.

Harry’s hand never stops moving, slowly passing across Louis’s chest, stroking down his bicep, tracing his hip. The other hand holds firmly to Louis’s ass, massaging with gentle squeezes, his fingers kneading the tense muscle.

Louis’s cries grow louder while Harry’s deep voice moans quietly with each suck. Louis can’t keep his hands to himself anymore. He digs into Harry’s hair. His fingers tighten automatically when Harry sinks particularly low, holding his head in place, tugging his hair at the roots. Louis worries for just a beat that he’s been too rough, too demanding, but he looks down and meets Harry’s gaze. There’s a wicked smile there. Harry likes this.

Harry increases his pace, bobbing lower and lower, then pulling almost entirely off, swirling his tongue around the taut red tip of Louis’s cock. Louis feels it in his thighs, the intensity building to levels he never feels on his own. He tightens the grip of his legs around Harry, lifting his hips higher and higher off the cushion. The hand Harry has had cradling Louis’s ass cheek slides up then down, stroking Louis’s lower back before traveling further beneath Louis’s body. Louis feels Harry’s fingertips graze along the cleft between his cheeks, tracing the line a few times before pausing, still pressed firmly to Louis’s flesh.

“Yes. Harold, yes. Please.” Louis cries, giving Harry the permission he’s looking for.

As his mouth continues pulling and sucking, Harry runs his fingers over Louis’s hole, then presses against the rim, his index finger just breaching the edge. The feeling sends Louis flying, bucking his hips up toward Harry and shooting into his mouth. Harry pushes firmly against the tight muscle of Louis’s asshole, then takes his finger back, the sudden absence ricocheting through Louis’s body, amping up the pulsing orgasm that still has him convulsing.

Louis’s shouting is drowned out by a deafening clap of thunder, the distant rumbles they’d both been too preoccupied to notice all of a sudden right on top of them, surrounding the clubhouse. Just as Louis starts to sink back into the sofa, aftershocks still running through him, making him twitch, the lights overhead flicker once and go out. Louis lies there, stunned, but Harry laughs, dropping his head down onto Louis’s hip, his chin and cheek nestled against Louis’s hair.

“Harold…” Louis says in a hushed voice. “What did we do?”

Harry laughs even harder. He rolls over, half of his body hanging off the edge of the sofa cushions, clutching his belly.

“Oh my god!” Harry cries. “I can’t fucking believe that just happened.” He’s whimpering now and wiping tears from his eyes.

Louis lays there, hands over his heart, still trying to catch his breath.

“Lou, I don’t know if I should take credit for that or if you should. I don’t think it’s a coincidence though.”

“Fuck, Harry,” Louis sighs, bringing a palm to his forehead. “That was just…_fuck_.”

Harry chuckles. Despite it being midday, the storm outside has obliterated any sunlight. Without electricity, Louis can barely make out Harry’s expression. He reaches a hand down and pats blindly at Harry’s face. He’s still feeling quite boneless. Spent.

“Harry. C’mere. Please,” Louis pants.

Harry crawls up Louis’s naked body, hovering just above it, covering him but not crushing him.

“Hi,” Louis says.

“Hi.” Harry leans in and kisses him softly. Louis can taste himself on Harry’s lips.

Between kisses Louis says, “It doesn’t seem right that I’m the only one naked here.”

“Mmm…” Harry hums. “Is that so?”

“It is, Harold. Feeling a bit self conscious here.”

“Oh Lou…” Kiss. “We don’t want that.” Kiss. “I hate the thought that anything would make you _not_ want to be naked.” Kiss.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Are you going to join me?”

Harry sits back on Louis’s thighs, his knees bracketing Louis’s midsection. He’s wearing a red windbreaker over his bare torso due to the inclement weather. He puts a hand to the zipper and pauses.

“I don’t know Lou, it’s kind of chilly, isn’t it?”

“I…” Louis brushes Harry’s hand aside and grabs the zipper pull himself. He slowly, deliberately pulls it down. “Don’t give…a fuck.”

Louis doesn’t think he could ever not lose his breath a little at the sight of Harry’s bare chest, which is really saying something, considering half of their time together has been spent at the lake. But still…Harry topless is a sight to behold. Louis pushes the jacket down off Harry’s shoulders.

He leans Harry backward, scooting out from under him. The intensity and fervor of ten minutes ago has given way to tender kisses and gentle touches. Seeing Harry lying below him, tousled curls fanned across the cushion, Louis feels his heart swell. It’s painful. Their earlier conversation—so many of their conversations— have tied up his heart in an attempt to keep his feelings in check. But there’s nothing to be done for it. Louis looks at him and his heart expands, straining against the bonds around it, hurting more with every beat.

But he can’t stop. He can’t turn away. Not when Harry is gazing up at him like this. Not when Louis’s hands are on his skin. Not when Harry is so vulnerable and trusting. So he doesn’t stop. He swallows the pain, kissing Harry’s plush, red lips, the smooth curve of his neck, the dark peak of his nipple. Louis works his way downward, attending to every inch of Harry’s body, with reverence, with torment.

When they’ve finished, Louis crawls back up and nestles himself between Harry and the back of the couch. His left leg drapes across Harry’s thigh, his hand tucked under Harry’s arm, still, holding him. Harry’s chest rises and falls slowly, Louis’s breath soon synching up with it. Louis closes his eyes, the rain hard on the roof, an occasional rumble of thunder softer now, but still audible.

“I’m going to miss this,” Harry says. Louis’s breath hitches. “I— the rain, I mean. When I move to LA. It hardly ever rains there.”

Oh. Louis is glad Harry can’t see his face.

“Alexis says people act like it’s a snow day every time it rains,” he goes on. “Traffic is even worse than normal; people get in accidents.”

“Huh,” Louis grunts.

“It’s so different there…I can’t believe it’s where I’ll be living. In just a little over a month!” Harry brings a hand up and places it over Louis’s forearm. Louis stiffens.

“It must be nice to have a plan. To know what your future looks like,” he mumbles. “I can’t imagine.”

“But I _don’t_ know what it will look like, that’s the thing,” Harry says. If he notices a change in Louis, he doesn’t let on. “I know I’ll be in LA. I know I’ll be with my sister and Niall, but that’s about it. It’s a big leap. I almost can’t believe I’m doing it.”

Louis sighs. “I believe it. I’ve only known you a little over a week and all you’ve done is take risks: pursuing dudes who can’t stand you…I watched you jump off a cliff for fuck’s sake. You’re brave as fuck and you’ve got your life worked out because of it. I, on the other hand, am chicken shit, with no job, no home, not even any real friends to speak of. Everyone I know is like you. They’ve got their shit together. They’ve moved on. They’re doing _something_.”

“Lou…” Harry pauses. “I— have you ever considered California? I mean—I’m not saying you should go with me! We—we barely know each other, I’m not saying— I just, well…with your degree and your interests, it’s not a bad fit.”

Louis can’t believe what he’s hearing. This is too much. He can’t fake it anymore. All the hand holding and kissing; the warm smiles and teasing laughter; fuck, the sex…it’s just too much. It’s too much for Louis to hold in his heart for the next four days and then have to give up. The gaping, Harry-shaped hole in his chest that’s already there, it’s only going to get bigger. It’s only going to hurt more, the longer this goes on. Louis can’t take it anymore.

“I—” Louis pushes himself up, trying to keep his face turned away from Harry’s. He scrambles down the couch, doing his best to climb over Harry without touching him more than necessary. “I should go.”

“Lou, what—”

“I just really need to go.” Louis tries to keep the hitch out of his voice, but he fails miserably. He gathers up his wet clothes and gets dressed in the semi-darkness.

“Lou, what’s going on? You can’t go, it’s still pouring!” Harry lays a hand on Louis’s shoulder. “Sparky—”

“Just stop!” Louis snaps, ducking out from under Harry’s touch. “Stop, Harry. I—I can’t. I have to go.”

Harry looks like he’s been slapped. Oh god, Louis really needs to get out of here. He makes for the door without sparing Harry another glance.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big giant thank you to my wonderful friend and beta maevewren for all of her help!

Louis doesn’t see Harry that night.

* * *

The next morning, the sun has returned but Louis has no intention of leaving the house. He’s had enough of this fucking vacation. If he had his own car here, he’d be halfway home by now.

Harry tried to call. Once. Louis didn’t answer. Harry didn’t leave a voicemail. Not that Louis would have listened to it if he did, but still.

Harry has sent a few texts. Nothing earth shattering.

_Just making sure you didn’t get washed away or struck by lightning…_

_Not sure what happened but I’d love to see you tonight. Xx H_

_I guess that’s a no for tonight. Beach tomorrow?_

Then nothing.

Louis lies in bed, willing himself to go back to sleep. Judging by the light streaming in the window, it’s got to be 11:00 at least. Considering he crawled into bed sopping wet and fully clothed yesterday at mid afternoon, he has little hope of more sleep. He just wants to shut his brain off; sleep is unnecessary. His body can stay awake if it wants, he just needs his mind to drift away, to think about nothing. Or at the very least something that’s not chestnut curls or yellow shorts or baritone laughs or ice cream or mini golf or spicy pasta or romantic comedies or, or, or…fuck it. The list is too long. Sleep _is_ necessary. He’s changed his mind.

His family comes home to find a waterlogged son and brother curled up under the covers, sounding like he was trying not to cry. Even Emily and Nora withhold their typical mockery. They’re not evil, after all, and they’re honestly a little taken aback at Louis’s behavior. They’re used to their brother being sullen, yes, and crabby, absolutely, but not sad. Right now, that’s it. He’s just _sad_.

Around noon there’s a soft knock on Louis’s bedroom door.

“What,” he groans, his voice muffled by a pillow.

“Sweetheart?” Kate opens the door a crack. “Can I come in?”

“I don’t care,” Louis mumbles. He doesn’t look up, but hears the door click shut and feels the mattress sink down as his mom sits on the edge of the bed. She’s quiet for a moment.

“There’s lunch downstairs. Your dad’s made sandwiches.” She lays a tentative hand on his back.

“‘M not hungry,” Louis mutters.

“No, I didn’t expect you would be,” Kate sighs. She doesn’t say anything else, but doesn’t move to get up either.

“I know what you’re doing,” Louis says into the pillow.

“Louis…I’m not doing anything. I’m just sitting here with my child.”

He turns his head just enough to squint one eye at her.

“You think if you sit here long enough, I’ll start talking.”

Kate chuckles gently. “Well, technically it’s working.”

“Argh!” Louis turns back and gives a half-hearted yell. He thrashes at the covers and rolls onto his back. “Can we just leave? I’m done with this vacation. I think we’ve all had enough lake fun. I think we can call it now.”

“Oh Lou.” She reaches out to brush hair off Louis’s forehead. “What happened, sweetheart?”

“Nothing,” he says, subdued. “Nothing happened. Nothing ever happens! That’s the problem.”

Kate furrows her brow. “I’m sorry Lou, I don’t follow.”

“I just—I made a mistake. I mean, _I_ didn’t make a mistake, my fucking stupid dumbass heart made a mistake and I watched it happen… Sorry about the swears.”

“Louis, it’s fine. But what—”

“I know this is just vacation. I know it’s not real life. I shouldn’t be surprised by this. I’m _not _surprised.”

They sit in silence, Kate waiting. It doesn’t work this time. “Louis?”

“Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m not making sense. Harry just…Harry is smart and sensible and he doesn’t fall for guys that he’s only going to know for a couple weeks. _I _on the other hand…” He rolls to his side, staring off into the middle distance.

“Oh darling…that’s a—” She seems at a loss for words. “I’m sorry. You seemed to be having such a nice time together.”

“We were!” He picks at the edge of the pillowcase. “We were. Too nice. Too nice a time, too much to ask for me to have something good in my life that could last for more than a fucking second.

“And that’s what it is, isn’t it? Too much. Too much goodness for me to be able to just walk away at the end of this week. Harry’s used to it, he’s done this a million times. He’ll be fine.”

“Louis, I know you’re hurting but does—” She hesitates. “Have you and Harry talked about this? I’ve seen you together. It doesn’t look to me like he’s going to be happy about you leaving.”

“Yes, Mom, we’ve talked. This is old hat to him. Just another summer fling. We talked about it just yesterday. That’s all it ever was and all it was ever meant to be. And I can’t— well, I can’t control my feelings like he can.”

Kate sighs. “It just— well, it’s too bad. You were having such a good trip. And I know Harry was having a great time with you. I could see it.”

“Yup, everyone had a blast, and now it’s over. Just like we always knew it would be.”

“Louis, it’s not over yet. We’re here for three more days…you don’t want to spend that time with him?”

“No, I don’t. I really don’t. Because every second I spend with him is going to make it hurt even more when I have to say goodbye. Besides…when I’m with him now, all I can think about it how easy this must be for him. How he’ll have no problem letting me go. And I—I can’t take it. God, I’m such a jackass! How did I let this happen?” He pulls a pillow over his face.

“I didn’t know you…” she pauses, considering her words carefully. “You seem to really care about him. I don’t think that’s something you can control, Lou. Sometimes it just happens.”

“In a week? Nine days? I couldn’t keep my feelings under control for nine days. Ugh, I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, sweetheart…it sounds like you’re—”

“Don’t,” Louis interrupts, sitting up and tossing the pillow aside. “Don’t. Say. Another word. What I am is stupid and pathetic and—unbelievably—so much more miserable now than I was when this trip started.”

His shoulders slump forward and his head hangs low. Kate rubs his back.

“We’re going to the beach as soon as lunch is over. I assume you’re staying here.”

“I’m never leaving this bed until Sunday. Maybe not even then.”

Kate stands and gives Louis a small kiss on his temple before she leaves the room.

* * *

That night Louis sits in bed, staring at his phone. No word from Harry today. At all. Louis types out a message, deletes it, tries again, deletes again, over and over and over. He doesn’t even know what he wants to say. Everything he comes up with is some version of _Harry, I’m not like you _or _Harry, this hurts too much_ or _Harry, I don’t want to let you go_, all of which leave Louis feeling raw and exposed and vulnerable and…Harry doesn’t need to hear any of that. He doesn’t need to know the full extent of what knowing him has done to Louis. After all, it’s not Harry’s fault. He was honest and upfront from the very beginning.

Louis’s about to give up on the text when he sees it. The three dots. Harry is about to send him a message. Louis almost throws his phone across the room he’s so startled. Instead, he takes a deep breath and tries to maintain composure.

He watches those dots, pulsating, taunting him. This must be a long fucking message. And then, suddenly, they’re gone. Louis stares at the screen, willing the dots to come back, a message to come through. It doesn’t even have to be long! Just a _hi_ would be fine! But there’s nothing.

Now he actually does throw his phone across the room.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big giant thank you to my wonderful friend and beta maevewren for all of her help!

The following day, Louis gets a text from Niall.

_Oi!!!!! Goin out on the pontoon boat today and yer comin with me_

Louis hasn’t known Niall very long, but it’s been long enough for him to know that the guy doesn’t take no as an answer easily.

_Who’s going with you?_

There’s no way Louis’s going to spend the day stuck in the middle of the lake with Harry. Even the thought of hanging out with Liam and Zayn is more than he can handle right now. All of their fluttering eyelashes and flirtatious touching. No thank you.

_Just you and me buddy boy. Everyone else is working! Don’t make me pontoon aloooooonnnnnne_

Louis sighs. He meant it when he said he didn’t plan to get out of bed for the rest of the trip. But this room is getting a little stuffy and he’s sure he could stand a little airing out himself. Not to mention, laying out in the sun, surrounded by water with Niall to distract from his misery, doesn’t sound half bad.

_I’ll be ready in 20_

_*** _

Niall’s boat (or his parents’ boat, rather) is a different type than Zayn’s. Pontoon boats are built for leisurely tours of the lake, not speed. They’re also built for a crowd, so it’s funny to Louis that they’re taking it out for just the two of them. Niall insists that it’s silly to leave the poor thing tied up at the dock just because all of their friends have to work for a living.

They make their way out to the center of the lake and drop the anchor. Niall says he has every intention of staying there until dusk at least.

“We’ve got snacks, we’ve got beer, we’ve got sunblock…only thing missing is your boy, but he’s stuck on the beach all day.”

“Hmph,” Louis grunts under his breath. Niall doesn’t seem to notice.

A couple hours later, Louis is actually glad he came out today. Maybe it’s the beer and the chips talking, but he’s having a good time. Niall is a great guy. He’s a generous host, he’s funny as hell, and he’s so laid back, he’s easy to be around. Louis begrudgingly admits to himself that the Harry Styles approach to vacation friendship is not the worst thing in the world. He holds out his can of Miller Lite to Niall.

“Hey, man. Cheers.”

“Cheers, Tomlinson.” They knock their cans together, then take long swigs of the lukewarm beer. “What was that for?”

“For bringing me out today. This has been fun.”

“Yeah, man. My pleasure! I’m glad you agreed to it. We haven’t seen you around the last few days. I hope you can give up a little private Harry time and come to another party before you go. You missed a rager last night, dude!”

“Oh, uh…yeah. I’m sure I can make it to one.”

“What are you guys up to tonight? My buddy over in Gilford is hosting. You two should come!”

“Um…well, I might be…” Louis trails off. He really doesn’t want to have this conversation.

“Do you guys have plans tonight? I assume you’re going to be with Harry, right? Where’s my phone…I’ll just text him about it. I think he even knows the friend who—”

“Don’t,” Louis interrupts. “Don’t text Harry, Niall. Please.”

Niall’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “Why not?”

“I’m not…” Louis really can’t avoid this, can he? “We’re not hanging out tonight. I mean, we’re just not hanging out…period.”

“Oh! No shit?” Niall’s expression changes as he begins to understand. “That’s a bummer.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Niall is quiet for a few minutes, sipping his beer and staring off across the lake. They’re sitting on the back of the boat, their feet trailing in the water.

“Gotta say, I’m a little surprised,” Niall says at last. “You two were looking pretty cozy.”

“Yeah, well…” Louis kicks at the water. “A little too cozy for my taste, I guess.”

“You’re shitting me,” Niall snorts. “How is that possible? You guys have been all over each other despite me begging you to cut it out.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Louis gives a half-hearted laugh and punches Niall in the arm.

“Ow!” Niall rubs his arm. “That fucking hurt, man!” He pouts at Louis. “Seriously though. What the fuck changed in the days since I’ve seen you? It hasn’t been _that_ long!”

“I just…I’m not cut out for this sort of thing. And I finally realized it. That’s what’s changed.”

Niall looks skeptical. “What sort of thing are we talking about? Feeling up hot lifeguards? I don’t believe that for a second, I’ve been around you two. Like I said, _begging_ you to stop.”

“No! That’s fine. Obviously. God, Niall, you could have looked away.”

“You’d think that, wouldn’t you? But no, you and Harry groping each other constantly is like a car crash. Believe me, I don’t wanna look. That shit is gruesome.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “It’s not the groping. I’m not—I can’t spend two weeks wrapped up in somebody like that and then just say ‘Bye!’ and have it be no big deal. I’m not like Harry.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up. What do you mean, you’re not like Harry?”

“I mean, I can’t just walk away and be ok with it. I can’t spend all this time with someone I like, then leave and feel nothing!”

“_Louis!” _Niall looks incredulous. “Have you _met_ Harry?”

Louis glares at him, teeth clenched, waiting for Niall to make his point.

“There is no way in hell that Harry is going to say goodbye and feel _nothing_. The fucking opposite, more like. Harry’s like the most emotional guy I know! I’ve seen him get teary over the lobster roll stand closing down for the season.”

“Well that’s hardly a fair comparison,” Louis grumbles. “He’s a little too obsessed with lobster rolls, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, that’s the point, Louis! That’s what Harry does, that’s who he is. He gets obsessed with stupid shit, because it’s not stupid to him! That guy loves life. He loves the lake and lobster and his stupid fucking car and he loves people. He’s going to be a wreck when you leave, I guarantee it! He just thinks it’s worth it.”

“Ok, fine. Then _that’s_ how we’re different. He thinks it’s worth the pain, I don’t.”

Niall furrows his brow. “Huh. Well, I can’t say I’m too surprised by that.” He gets up and walks over to the beer-filled cooler, cracks open another can.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis calls at his back.

“Louis, do you remember what I said at the cliff last week?”

“Um, no. But I’m guessing it was some sort of insult.”

“It was not! I showed great restraint that day, you should be grateful,” Niall says. He sits back down next to Louis and takes a gulp of beer. “No, I told you that shitting your pants was part of the fun of jumping off the cliff.”

“Oh yes, that’s right. And I told you I’m not a fan of pants shitting.”

“Right. And that’s why I’m not surprised that you’re here with me instead of ogling Harry on the lifeguard stand. You play everything safe. You’d rather miss out on the fun stuff, just to avoid a little shit in your pants.”

“Can we please stop with this metaphor? I get the point. No more shit, no more pants. _Please_. But you’re right. That is exactly why I’m not hanging out with Harry right now. I don’t want it to hurt any more than it already does. I’ve reached my pain threshold.”

“Well Louis, that kind of sucks!”

“I’ll say it again, Niall: _fuck off!_”

“I will not,” Niall says haughtily. He drapes an arm over Louis’s shoulders. “The pain is what makes the good stuff good! Jumping off the cliff is fun because for a split second I honestly think I’m about to die. Love is the same—”

“Hold on a minute. Nobody said anything about _love_. Jesus Christ, Niall!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Love, like…_lust_.” He waggles his eyebrows. “I’m just using the word as shorthand. It’s more poetic that way.”

Louis squirms uncomfortably.

“As I was saying…_Love_ is the same way. You’re risking something. It’s scary as fuck but that makes it exciting! Harry knows that.”

“Harry does not _love_ me.”

“Shorthand, Louis! What did I say?” Niall is exasperated. “Look, I’m not saying you need to become a total masochist or anything. I just mean, maybe you should stop avoiding things just because they might hurt a little. Sometimes the risk is what makes it worthwhile, what makes it even better.”

Louis grunts. He doesn’t want to concede that Niall is on to something. Louis’s entire life is lacking in both risk and excitement.

“And hey,” Niall continues. “As for Harry, if you’re avoiding him because you think he doesn’t care, you’re fucking nuts. That guy walks around with his heart completely outside of his body. Trust me, I know him, _he cares_. I’ve seen you two together, remember? I’ve seen too much of you two together.”

“Fuck, Niall.” Louis drops his head into his hands. “I don’t know. Even if I wanted to see him again, I’ve been a real asshole the last couple of days.”

“What have I been saying this entire time? Take a fucking risk, Louis! Go talk to him. If he’s done with you, you’re no worse off than you are right now!”

“Yeah, ok.” Louis puffs out his chest and pulls his lips into a straight line. “I’m going to do it.”

“Yeah?” Niall is excited.

“Yeah.” Louis nods. “There’s something I want to do first though.”

“What’s that?”

“Let’s go back to the cliff.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big giant thank you to my wonderful friend and beta maevewren for all of her help!

By the time Louis and Niall finish their business at the cliff and make it back to the dock, it’s already dusk. Louis jumps from the boat to the dock before it’s even stopped moving.

“You got this, Tomlinson! Go get your boy!” Niall calls with a laugh.

Louis turns around and jogs backward for a few steps. “Thanks, Nialler! I owe you one!” He stumbles on a loose board but catches himself before sprawling out on his face completely. “I’m ok!”

The dock is about half a mile down the road from the beach, and of course Louis and Niall walked there this morning. The beach closes soon and Louis is determined to get there before Harry leaves. He doesn’t slow down when he reaches the road, awkwardly running in his flip flops, holding his breath every time he hears an approaching car. If he gets flattened by a pick-up truck before he gets to kiss Harry again he swears he’ll come back as a ghost and haunt all of Lake Winnipesaukee for the rest of time.

When he finally reaches the beach parking lot, Louis pauses to catch his breath. Hunched over, hands on his bent knees, he notices the lot is overflowing with cars. That’s not right. The beach should be closed by now; Harry should be in the clubhouse, getting ready to head home. What is happening?

“Louis!” He turns toward a voice calling his name. It’s Zayn, dropping out of the passenger side of Liam’s pick-up. They must have pulled in just behind him.

“Boys,” Louis gives a weak wave, still trying to stop panting after his impromptu run. “What the fuck is going on here?”

“Clambake!” Liam exclaims as he shuts the driver’s side door. “It’s an annual tradition! Isn’t that why you’re here? Harry’s working, isn’t he?”

“I, uh—no,” Louis stammers. “I mean, I came to see Harry, yeah. But I didn’t know this was going on!”

Zayn and Liam exchange confused looks. “Yeah, man,” Zayn says. “I can’t believe Harry didn’t mention it.”

“We haven’t been…” Louis huffs, frustrated. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. We can talk about this later. I just need to find Harry.”

“Sure, Louis. Come on.” Liam gestures toward the beach. “He’ll be here. He works it every year. Got to make sure nobody gorges themselves on shellfish and beer and then tries to swim out to the raft.”

The three of them approach the beach and suddenly Louis is feeling out of breath all over again. The beach is _packed_. Everyone from this town, and the neighboring towns, and all of their mothers have to be there. And speaking of mothers, there’s Louis’s.

“Sweetheart! You’re here!” Kate calls to Louis from a picnic blanket smack dab in the middle of the crowd. She’s surrounded by the rest of the family, all either stuffing their faces or groaning on the blanket because they’ve already eaten too much. Louis is getting desperate to find Harry, but he knows he can’t get away without saying hi to his family first. He glances around quickly, hoping Harry won’t spot him before he’s ready.

“Mom, what is this? I had no idea this was happening tonight!”

“Oh Louis, I’m sure I’ve mentioned it. You’ve just been so mopey the last couple days, I assumed you wouldn’t be joining us. But you’re here! I’m so glad! Go grab a plate, the food is amazing.”

“I will, Mom, I just have to find Harry first.”

Kate’s eyes light up and she gives a tiny gasp. “Louis William, are you doing what I think you’re doing?”

“Mom, I don’t ever want to know what you think I’m doing. I just need to talk to Harry. Have you seen him?”

“I’ve seen him!” Nora croaks out, holding her belly. “He’s over on the lifeguard stand.”

“Louis, are you going to go confess your _love?”_ Emily hoots with her mouth full, bits of corn spraying everywhere.

“You—” Louis points to her with intent. “Can shove it.”

“Louis,” Kate reprimands. Emily cackles, flopping over on top of Nora, who groans and shoves her off.

“Thanks, Nora. I’ve gotta go.” He looks across the crowd to the lifeguard stand. Sure enough, he can see Harry perched atop it, his broad shoulders covered by the red windbreaker Louis took off of him just two days before. The day of the storm, just before Louis ran out, the last time he saw Harry. He’s got to fix this, now. But _fuck_, he’s already about to shake out of his skin from nerves, does he really have to do this in front of his family and half the population of New Hampshire? He briefly considers going to Harry’s house and waiting for him to return. But no. Louis is resolute. He’s doing this. He’s going to jump.

One more look at Harry, hair pulled up in a bun, bare feet on the step below his seat, all of his usual tools of the trade. It gives Louis an idea. If he’s leaping off this cliff, he might as well do it in a spectacular fashion. He runs through the crowd and goes into the clubhouse. A few minutes of digging around in the storage closet gives him what he’s looking for. He steps back out onto the beach.

A screeching wail of feedback cuts through the din of the clambake. Louis winces, then brings the megaphone up to his mouth.

“Uh, hello?” He’s too quiet. Shit. He’s going to have a heart attack. Or at the very least throw up, just as he manages to draw everyone’s notice.

“ATTENTION! HELLO. YES, I’M OVER HERE. HELLO.” Louis gives a wave as eyes start turning toward him. He’s only concerned with one set of eyes, though, and so far they haven’t turned around. Louis swears he sees tension in Harry’s shoulders, even from this far away. He decides he needs to just go for it.

“I CAME HERE TONIGHT TO TALK TO YOU.” He doesn’t want to say Harry’s name, wants to give him the opportunity to ignore Louis completely and walk away without being humiliated if that’s what Harry wants. But the way Harry’s face turns just _this much_ in Louis’s direction gives him hope. He can just see Harry’s profile, the hard set of his jaw, his lips pulled in between his teeth. He’s listening.

“I DIDN’T INTEND FOR THIS TO BE SUCH A PUBLIC DECLARATION, BUT F— I MEAN, WHATEVER! I THINK THAT’S WHAT IT NEEDS TO BE.

“I’M SORRY. I’M SORRY THAT I MISUNDERSTOOD. I’M SORRY THAT I ASSUMED WHAT WE HAD MEANT NOTHING TO YOU. I’M SORRY THAT I DIDN’T THINK IT WAS WORTH THE PAIN AND I’M SORRY THAT I DIDN’T TALK TO YOU ABOUT IT. I WAS A JERK.”

Harry still hasn’t turned around fully, but he seems to have softened a bit; his shoulders look less tense, his eyes are closed.

“AND I WAS WRONG. THE LAST TWO WEEKS HAVE BEEN THE BEST I’VE HAD IN SUCH A LONG TIME—MAYBE EVER. I’M NOT READY TO BE DONE WITH YOU YET. I’LL TAKE WHATEVER I CAN GET, WHATEVER TIME I HAVE LEFT, WHATEVER YOU’RE WILLING TO GIVE ME. BECAUSE IT’S DEFINITELY TOTALLY WORTH IT.”

The crowd at the beach is utterly silent. If you could hear a pin drop on sand, you’d be able to hear it right now. Louis is about to keep talking—he feels like he could do this all night, or at least until Harry gives an indication that he should stop— when Harry finally opens his eyes and looks Louis’s way. Louis holds his gaze, not sure if he should continue, trying to read anything in Harry’s expression. A low murmur has started among the mass of people. Everyone is whispering to each other and glancing about, trying to identify the recipient of Louis’s apology. Everyone except Liam and Zayn, that is, whom Louis spots out of the corner of his eye, watching him and clinging to each other nervously. And his family, of course. Louis sees his mom press a hand over Emily’s mouth to keep her from shouting something rude to ruin his moment. His stomach is sinking further and further south with each passing second, though; he’s not sure there’s much Emily could say to make this worse.

He’s about to give it one last go when he sees Harry reach over to grab something from the bench beside him.

“GET OVER HERE, YOU DOOFUS. YOU’RE SPOILING THE CLAMBAKE.”

Louis has never been so happy to be insulted in his entire life.

As he drops the megaphone and runs to Harry, the crowd on the beach parts to let him through, cheering and whistling their approval.

When Louis reaches the lifeguard stand, Harry has jumped down onto the sand to meet him. Harry’s smiling tentatively, almost shy. His hands are in the pockets of his coat.

“Hi,” Louis says, coming to a halt a few feet from Harry. He’s suddenly at a loss for words. Not only that, he’s worried. What if Harry called him over just to shut him up? What if he’s about to get told off for being such an asshole? What if—

“Sparky…” Harry says, softly.

Ok, maybe not, then.

“Harold.” Louis takes a step closer to Harry. “I’m so sorry. I was a jackass. I shouldn’t have just left without talking to you. I—”

Harry grabs Louis by his shirt front and pulls him to his chest.

“Lou.”

“Yeah?”

“Will you please kiss me already?”

Louis wraps a hand around the back of Harry’s neck and brings their lips together. He can feel Harry smiling; he can hear Harry huff out a noise that’s half relieved laughter, half quiet sob.

“Harry.” Louis pulls back and examines Harry’s face. “Harry, are you crying?”

“No! I’m just…oh, fuck it. YES I’m crying!” His eyes are glistening but Louis doesn’t know if he’s ever seen him smile so wide.

“Harold, no! Why would you—” Louis brings a hand up and runs his thumb across Harry’s cheek, wiping away a tear.

“I thought I’d lost you, Lou! I mean, I thought I never even had you in the first place. But you’re here, and I…I’m fucking crying. At the clambake. I hope you’re happy.”

Louis can’t help but chuckle. “Not about the crying, but yeah, Harry. I’m really fucking happy.”

They kiss. Louis feels himself melt into Harry’s arms, into his lips. The crowd and his family and their friends have all disappeared. It’s just Louis and Harry, the sand, the lake—

“Oh!” Louis pulls away suddenly. “I almost forgot!”

Harry looks displeased with the distance between them.

“I did it, Harry! I jumped off the cliff. I jumped off the fucking cliff!”

“Lou, you didn’t!” Harry’s displeasure dissolves.

“I totally fucking did.”

“Aw Sparky, I’m so proud of you!” Harry brushes the hair off Louis’s forehead.

“That’s my whole fucking problem. I don’t take any risks so my life has stagnated. I’ve been miserable but I’m not doing anything to try to change things. I want to start. I want to start jumping off cliffs. I _did_ jump off a cliff. I fucking jumped off a cliff, Harry!”

Harry wraps his arms around Louis and pulls him into a firm embrace. He buries his face in Louis’s neck.

“So that’s what this is. The megaphone, and you, and me making a fool of myself. This is me, jumping.”

Harry pulls back and smiles at Louis, his nose scrunched up as if he’s trying not to cry again.

“I kind of got that, Lou.”

Louis laughs. “I’m sorry! I just want to make sure you understand. I want everything to be clear. I think there were some things that weren’t so clear between us. I’m done with that too.”

“I do, Sparky. I get it.” Harry leans in for a soft but firm kiss. “I’m so glad.”

“Harold?” Louis says softly.

“Yeah, Lou?”

“Are your folks still out of town?” He brings his hands down from around Harry’s neck and slides them into the pockets of his windbreaker.

“They are…” Harry nods, drawing Louis’s hips closer.

“Have you seen any bears sniffing around the outdoor shower lately?”

“I have not,” Harry chuckles.

“Will you meet me there when you’re done with work?”

“It’s a date.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big giant thank you to my wonderful friend and beta maevewren for all of her help!

“Ow! Ah, shit. Damn it!”

Louis opens one eye as he stretches his arms up over his head, his toes reaching for the foot of Harry’s bed.

“You ok, Harold?” he croaks.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Lou! Just spilled coffee on myself. I was trying not to wake you!”

Louis relaxes his limbs and opens both eyes, the tiniest smile playing on his lips. Harry creeping into the room in nothing but his underwear is an amazing sight to wake up to. Louis can’t believe he almost missed this.

“Put that down and come here already.” Louis lifts a corner of the bed quilt to welcome Harry in. Harry places the coffee on the nightstand and climbs in happily.

“I like having you here,” Harry says softly.

“I like being here.” Louis draws the quilt up over their heads. They lie on the same pillow, each studying the other’s features, filing it all away. Louis doesn’t want this to end. He doesn’t want the memories of Harry’s dimples and hairline and eyelashes to be all that he has left. His heart is so heavy but floating at the same time. He sighs.

“Hey.” Harry strokes Louis’s cheek. “I want to take you somewhere. This morning. Right now.”

“Now? Don’t you have to work?”

“I got someone to fill in for me. It’s your last day! I can’t spend it working.”

Louis’s vision gets a little blurry. He tries to speak without his voice wobbling. “Okay.” He does not succeed.

* * *

“A canoe?” Louis shouts. “Harold! You forced me out of your nice warm bed to stick me in _a canoe_?” They’ve driven down to the beach and Harry has led Louis to a rack at the far end where people in the neighborhood can store their canoes.

“Louis, come on! It will be fun, I promise. Here, this one’s yours.” He holds a paddle out toward Louis.

“You want me to _paddle_?” Louis’s eyes are wide.

“Lou! Stop being a shit. What happened to taking risks?”

“Doing an upper body workout at eight in the morning is a risk that I’m willing to pass up.”

Harry drops the paddle and sidles up into Louis’s space. “Louis…” He draws out the name. “A peaceful boat ride on a quiet lake…this is peak romance, can’t you tell?” Harry’s face hovers above Louis’s, forcing him to tilt his head back to meet Harry’s gaze. His lids are half closed and he has a slight pout on his lips. He slides his hands around Louis’s waist and spreads his fingers across Louis’s lower back. Louis cannot resist these tactics.

“I can’t say no to you, Harold. I think you know that.”

“I do,” Harry says matter-of-factly as he steps back and smacks Louis on the ass. “Now grab that paddle and help me get this thing in the water.”

“Hey! What happened to peak romance?” Louis balks at him.

“Don’t worry, Sparky.” Harry winks. “This is just the beginning.”

Out on the water, Louis has to admit this was a lovely idea. The lake is so still at this time of day. There are very few people out this early and the ones they’ve come across are enjoying the tranquility just as much as they are. There are no motorboats zipping around or rowdy kids drinking beer and blasting music. Just the calm water, the birds, a gentle breeze ruffling the trees.

“The only problem with this setup is I can’t see you, Harold.” Louis cranks his head around but he’s feeling a bit too wobbly to fully turn toward Harry in the back of the canoe. “Doesn’t seem fair, if you ask me.”

Harry laughs. “Sorry about that. If it helps, know that I have an excellent view and I am very much enjoying it.”

“Hmm…” Louis faces forward again and wiggles in his seat. “That actually does help, believe it or not.”

From behind him, Louis hears what’s becoming a welcome and familiar sound, Harry growling. Suddenly, Harry’s on Louis’s back, his paddle tossed in the bottom of the canoe, his arms wrapped around Louis’s chest, holding him in a vice grip, Harry’s mouth finding its way to Louis’s neck. The canoe bucks wildly from side to side.

“HARRY!” Louis yelps. “We’re going to capsize! I’m too young to die!” He grabs onto the sides of the boat and tries to sink low to steady it.

“It’s okay, Lou,” Harry murmurs into Louis’s skin. “I’d save you.”

“Well still, it’s too early for a swim. Especially an accidental one.” The rocking has eased; Louis releases his grip on the canoe and strokes Harry’s hair.

“You’re just too cute. I’m having a hard time not touching you,” Harry says.

Louis closes his eyes and leans his head against Harry’s. “I like this,” he says.

“Mm, me too. Obviously,” Harry responds.

“No, I mean, I like being able to be open like this. Being honest. I like liking each other and not holding anything back.”

Harry is quiet but he squeezes tighter and kisses Louis’s neck.

“I want to show you something,” Harry says as he releases Louis and carefully returns to his seat. “It’s just up around this bend.”

Harry guides the canoe to the bank of a small island. It’s tucked in among several larger islands and the boys are hidden from the main shore. He hops out into the shallow water and hoists the canoe up the small, rocky beach, then holds it steady so Louis can climb out.

“What is this, Harold? Is this where you’ve hidden your buried treasure?”

“I’ll bury your treasure,” Harry says through clenched teeth as he collects the backpack he’s brought from the bottom of the canoe.

Louis laughs. “I don’t know if that makes enough sense for me to be scandalized.”

Harry directs a meaningful look at Louis as he walks up the beach toward the tree line. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Louis runs after him.

“For real, though…is this your secret hangout spot? Is this where you bring your dates for a little afternoon delight? Or, er— nine AM delight, as the case may be?”

“It is not, Lou.” They’ve walked through the trees and entered a clearing, a tiny little patch of tall grass and black-eyed Susans and Queen Anne’s lace at what must be the center of the very small island. Harry opens the backpack and takes out a faded, fraying quilt that he spreads on the ground. “Come here. Lie down with me.”

They lie on their backs, heads close together, fingers intertwined. Harry is quiet. Louis is dissatisfied with how little they are touching. He scoots his body closer to Harry’s, putting his head on Harry’s shoulder, his arm around Harry’s waist and a leg draped over Harry’s thigh.

“This is better.” He turns his head and kisses Harry’s collarbone through his t-shirt. Harry brings his arms up around Louis and squeezes.

“I want to tell you something,” Harry says, at last.

“Yes, Harold. I am a captive audience.”

“This place…it’s not like it’s a secret or anything. There are definitely other people who come here sometimes. But it’s always been special to me. Since I was a kid. I would come here by myself. To think. To write. To just be alone.”

“It’s lovely,” Louis says.

“But Lou, I need you to know, I’ve never brought a date here. I’ve never brought _anyone_ here. Period. Just like I’ve never brought someone to the shower at my folks’ house. You’re…well, _this_…this, between you and me, it’s different. I feel different when I’m with you. I feel different when I just _think_ of you.

“I know you’re joking when you talk about people I’ve dated before. But I think—and please, tell me to shut up if I’m wrong—I think there’s more to it than that. That you think you’re just another in a long line of summer flings, that I’ll have fun with you then move on come September.” He pauses, takes a deep breath. “And that you make jokes because you don’t want that to be true.”

Louis lies still and silent on Harry’s chest, waiting for him to continue, waiting to breathe.

“Even if I’m wrong—even if you really don’t care—I want you to know that it’s not true. You’re not like anyone else I’ve ever dated. You’re not like anyone else I’ve ever known. And the way I feel about you…” Harry shifts up onto an elbow so he can look Louis in the eye as he says, “It’s not like anything I’ve ever felt before.”

Louis’s eyes have gone glassy and his heart is stuttering in his throat. He reaches up and tucks a lock of hair behind Harry’s ear. “Are you—” Louis doesn’t know if he can say it.

“I don’t want this to end,” Harry says.

Louis looks into Harry’s eyes, willing his lip not to quiver, his voice not to shake. This beautiful person, who practically had to force himself on Louis because he was too wrapped up in self-pity to recognize something amazing when it was literally calling to him through a megaphone—this person who has never been anything other than honest and earnest and caring and considerate, he wants what Louis wants. The nasty little bit in Louis’s brain is shouting this is too good to be true, but every other part of Louis’s being knows it’s not. He’s felt it building, growing, all along, and now that Harry’s said it…

“I don’t either,” Louis says, voice fully wobbling. “I don’t know what that will mean, what it will look like, but I don’t want to not have you in my life.”

“Oh thank god.” Harry huffs out a relieved laugh, tears gathering in his eyes as well. He leans in and covers Louis’s mouth with his own, both of them laughing and smiling so wide there’s more teeth clashing than actual kissing.

“Harold, you’re crying again.” Louis strokes his thumb across Harry’s cheek.

“You make me very emotional, Sparky. Besides, you’re one to talk.” Harry kisses Louis’s eyelid; a tear spills out.

Harry turns his attention back to Louis’s mouth, their lips soft and relaxed now, pressing and nipping and pulling at each other. Harry slides his arm out from under Louis’s head, gently lowering it to the quilt. He maneuvers his body onto his hands and knees, embracing Louis’s sides with his legs, kissing him deeply, more and more intensely with every lick of his tongue, every drag of his teeth. He lowers himself on top of Louis, their chests meeting and heaving in sync as their breathing grows heavy. Harry is propping himself up on one elbow, hand buried in Louis’s hair. The other hand is petting Louis’s face, feeling the sharpness of his cheekbones, grabbing hold of his chin, scraping against his stubble.

Louis moans softly into Harry’s mouth as Harry’s hips lower and their groins meet. Louis raises his pelvis, pressing against Harry, all of a sudden needing so much more, even though Harry has already given so much. Louis feels certain it will never be enough. In this moment, he thinks he could spend forever taking all that Harry has to give and still want more. As their kisses deepen, Louis brings his hands up under Harry’s t-shirt, stroking up his back, feeling the thin sheen of sweat that has begun to gather there.

Louis holds tight to Harry’s sides and rolls them over so that Louis’s on top. Harry looks stunned for a moment but then beams up at Louis. He likes being overpowered; he likes feeling how much Louis cares, how much he wants. Louis can see it. The hands that trailed through the sweat on Harry’s back are now rusching up his shirt, exposing his belly to licks and kisses. Harry closes his eyes, one hand to his forehead, breathing deeply; he’s winded.

Louis pulls off of Harry’s chest with a wet smack, just below his left nipple. “Wait, Harold. I have to tell you…you were right.” He leans down to give Harry a peck on the lips.

Harry looks confused.

“Joking about other people you’ve dated. I was just…well I guess I was trying to protect myself. Of course I didn’t fucking want to be just another notch in your bedpost.” He laughs. “Or in the wall of your shower.”

Harry gives him a withering look.

“Ooh! Not the shower, a notch in your canoe paddle!” Louis giggles as Harry digs his hands into Louis’s waist and rolls them back over.

“You are an asshole,” Harry says from above, but there’s laughter in his eyes.

“Ok, I’ll stop. I can be sincere, I promise.” He puts a palm to the side of Harry’s face. “I want to tell you this.”

Harry kisses him, then says, “Last chance. Go.”

“I guess I just…well, I’ve realized I can’t date casually. I just don’t do it. Which probably explains why I don’t really date much at all…it—it feels too big, too scary, and usually, it just feels wrong, making that leap with someone I’m not totally sold on.

“But then there’s you…I felt like—well, like I kept waiting to be scared to jump into things, but I never was! Instead, I found myself holding back, trying to keep my feelings in check because I didn’t think you felt the same. So yeah, I turn things into a joke so it won’t hurt so much when they don’t go my way, and I was _certain_ things with you wouldn’t go my way. I really thought you were just having some summer fun, and that was ok! I never thought it wasn’t ok. It’s just…not the way my heart works, I guess. So I was joking, trying to fake like I didn’t care. But I did. I do. I _really_ do. And I wish I had told you that sooner.”

“Aw, Lou…” Harry snakes his arms under Louis’s body and just hugs him, face pressed into Louis’s neck.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before.” He squeezes, clasping his hands behind Harry’s back.

“Well you have now. You don’t need to apologize. It’s not easy,” Harry says, quietly. “You know…” He trails off.

“What?”

“No…” Harry kisses the underside of Louis’s jaw, then works his way down his neck to the dip between his clavicles. “It’s nothing.”

“Harold, do not hold back on me now. I’ve spilled all of my guts to you. I have no guts left. I am a shell of a human being here. Please, tell me what you were going to say.”

Harry sighs. “Ok, fine. I…I think I was a little out of control when I first met you.”

“You were an asshole, yes. We’ve established that.”

Harry laughs. “I wasn’t going to put it so strongly, but sure, if you say so. I was an asshole. But, I’m not normally like that…I’m not usually so, well, _predatory_. You talk about being casual and your heart not working that way…the opposite has always been true for me. That was the _only_ way my heart worked. I didn’t think there was another way, at least not for me. And then I met you and casual went right out the window. I didn’t know what to do about it.

“There was something about you, right from the start. It was like I just knew. Like I could sense it. There was something I wanted, something I needed, and I couldn’t articulate it but I could _feel_ it. It was all there—it’s all here!” He leans in and kisses Louis. “It’s you, Sparky. It’s in you. Anyway, I can’t believe I almost fucked it up by wanting you too hard.”

“I don’t know, Harold…it’s true I didn’t like you at first, but if you didn’t come on so strong I doubt we’d be lying here right now.”

Harry sighs. “It’s kind of amazing.”

“What’s that?”

“That it’s all worked out like it has. That I like you this much—that I _want_ you this much. And you feel the same.”

Louis smiles up at him, no sarcasm, no cynicism, just genuine affection. “It really is. And I do. I _really_ do.”

Harry’s expression changes, intensifies. There’s suddenly fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Apparently sincerity is a turn on for him. Louis will remember that.

“Louis,” Harry says, as he leans in and kisses Louis’s neck.

“Yes, Harold.”

“We’ve been doing a lot of talking here.” He works his way around to the other side.

“I guess we have a lot to say.”

“I think I’m done talking.” Harry’s lips part and he licks at Louis’s skin, then sucks gently. Then not so gently.

“Is that so?” Louis’s voice cracks a bit.

“I was thinking, Lou…” Harry pulls off briefly to speak, then goes right back to Louis’s neck, kissing and sucking at the same spot.

“Yeah, Harry?”

With a smack, Harry pulls away, then brings his lips up near Louis’s ear. His body is hovering above Louis’s, barely touching most everywhere. “Louis…do you think you could…” He hesitates. His voice lowers almost to a whisper. “I want you to fuck me.”

Louis laughs, slapping a hand over his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Harold! Are you fucking kidding me?”

Harry draws back, alarmed. “What? Do you not want—”

“I do! Oh my god, I do. Fuck, Harry. _Yes_. Just so long as I don’t have a heart attack first.”

“Ha!” There it is, Louis’s favorite, the horse laugh. “I’m sorry to spring it on you like that. Can I try again?” Harry asks sweetly.

“Go ahead.”

“Sparky? Would you be interested in fucking me, please?”

Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and his legs around Harry’s waist, shoving him over so that Louis is on top.

“Fuck yes, I would.”

There isn’t anything more to say after that. Mouths crash together, and it’s nothing but tongues and teeth, Harry and Louis moaning in harmony. Hands on chests, shirts hastily pulled off, the obligatory moment of reverence they both take at seeing the other half naked. The inevitable fit of laughter when they realize how stupid and silly it is, still not diminishing the admiration, the affection in both of their eyes.

As they wriggle out of their swim trunks, Louis is both nervous at the thought of someone discovering them on the island, while also turned on by it. Another risk he’s ready and willing to take.

Harry has come prepared, with condoms and a bottle of lube in the bottom of his backpack. Louis wants to act affronted by the assumption that he’s a sure thing but he can’t bring himself to do it. When it comes to Harry, Louis is just that. A sure thing. He focuses whatever energy he would normally put into being a smart ass into attending to Harry. They haven’t done this before and Louis wants to give Harry everything he deserves. And that’s a lot.

After more kisses and nips at Harry’s inner thighs, more sliding fingers and pressing palms than Louis can count, Harry is begging him for more.

They’ve been silent for so long now. Louis almost doesn’t trust himself to use his voice.

“Are you ready?” he finally croaks out.

“Lou, please. I need you.”

Louis swallows over a knot in his throat. He knows those words mean a lot more than just sex.

He crawls up Harry’s body, kissing his belly, laying his cheek down on Harry’s chest. He draws himself up and looks Harry in the eye, asking for confirmation one last time. It’s there. Everything is there in Harry’s face. Louis pushes in, slowly, gently; neither of them looks away. Harry’s lips part; he pants through the feeling, relaxing around Louis, pulling him closer with his hands on Louis’s back. And it’s everything. This incredible, buck-wild, all-consuming connection between them, it’s all right here, bursting out of Louis’s overflowing heart.

They rock together, in the open air, a light breeze ruffling the tall grass, making the flowers bob their heads, nodding their agreement that this is right, Harry and Louis, together in whatever way they can.

* * *

“Is it weird that we’ve only known each other for two weeks?” Louis asks over his shoulder. They’re back in the canoe, slowly paddling back to the beach, taking the long way around the island.

“Honestly?” Harry chuckles. “Yes. It’s totally weird. But it doesn’t bother me. I actually kind of love it.”

“Why?” Louis asks.

“I don’t know, it’s kind of incredible, that I can just tell. I don’t need a long time to know this is special; I just know it. That feels totally bananas, but also pretty amazing.”

“I’ll tell you something else that felt totally bananas and also amazing…”

“Louis, don’t make me come up there. You didn’t like it the last time, remember?”

Louis laughs and turns back to face Harry. “Bring it on, Harold. I’m not scared anymore.”


	18. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack! It's finally done! Thank you all for reading this far and I'm sorry it took me so long to get this final piece out. It's just a short little epilogue about H and L's life after summer.
> 
> As always, huge huge love and thanks to my friend and beta maevewren for all of her help and encouragement.

“Harry, help!” Louis stumbles up the stairs, struggling to balance one moving box on top of another and keep their belongings from spilling all over the sidewalk and into the street.

Harry appears around the side of the house and rushes to Louis’s aid when he sees what is about to happen.

“I told you to take more trips, Sparky!” Harry says, just catching a box as it tips out of Louis’s grasp.

“I know you did, and I told you I’ll take as few trips as I want, didn’t I?”

Harry sighs and laughs at the same time. “You did, Lou. I don’t know why I didn’t listen to you.”

“I ask myself that every day, Harold.”

Harry smiles fondly at Louis before leading the way up the stairs and down the walkway to their new apartment. It’s a tiny little one-bedroom back house on a steep hill in the middle of Echo Park. After nearly eight months of crashing with Harry’s sister Alexis, they’ve finally managed to find a place of their own. Even though they moved out to LA from the east coast together, and have been at Alexis’s ever since, there’s something about this that feels momentous. Like it’s finally real. They’re officially moving in together, into their own place, both of their names on the lease. Louis feels giddy over it.

Alexis had been more than welcoming, over the moon to have her brother close by after living in LA without any family for so long, and she had taken to Louis immediately. There was never any doubt in her eyes that Harry and Louis had made the right decision, however rash it may have seemed on paper. After parting ways at the end of Louis’s family vacation, there was a sort of frantic desperation between the two of them. The need to be back together was overwhelming. They lasted a week. They had fallen into a relationship so quickly and it was more than a little terrifying. Yet once he’d made the jump, Louis felt like his response to everything was just _fuck it_. He’d already done the scariest fucking thing he’d ever done in his life, why not keep it going? Why not drive back up to New Hampshire and spend the rest of the summer with Harry? Why not pack up as many of his belongings as he could fit in his car and caravan out to California with Harry and Niall? Why not accept Alexis’s advice and get a job as a production assistant, then hopefully work his way up into a job where a theater degree is actually useful? Once he made that first jump, all of a sudden everything after seemed a whole lot less frightening. Even if it was scary, seeing what life could be like if he just sucked it up and went for it gave him all the courage he needed. He does miss his family, and as beautiful as the weather is in LA, he does mourn the lack of seasons. But that’s it. Louis can see so clearly now that it was fear holding him back before, that’s all.

So now here they are. The two of them have adopted every Los Angeles cliche Louis can think of and, much to his own surprise, he fucking loves it. They spend hours writing side by side in coffee shops, drinking oat milk lattes and matcha tea. They go running around the Silver Lake reservoir and hiking in Runyon Canyon. Harry even convinced Louis to try yoga and he doesn’t hate it. At least once a week they track down their favorite food truck and gorge themselves on hand-pulled noodles covered in spicy sauce with pickled vegetables. They have figured out their definitive ranking of tacos in Alexis’s neighborhood and are not above a good old bacon wrapped hotdog, followed by a massive cup of freshly cut fruit, sprinkled with chili seasoning, shared while they wander around downtown. They let Niall drag them to Dodger games and Barney’s Beanery. Occasionally they drive out to the beach where Louis can spend the day ogling Harry in his tiny yellow swim trunks, no longer having to be surreptitious about it, after which Harry always insists they visit Malibu Seafood. They may not serve lobster rolls, but eating seafood at a picnic table overlooking the ocean always makes Harry moony over their first date and Louis will never say no to that. On Sunday mornings they visit the Hollywood farmer’s market, where Louis acts extremely chill and studiously nonplussed when he spots the odd celebrity, while Harry only has eyes for the produce. They pick avocados from the tree in Alexis’s backyard and Louis actually eats them. And _likes _it. The endless sunny days are strange to two Northeasterners such as themselves, but not in a bad way. This new life is the perfect accompaniment to this new love they’ve found. The two go hand in hand and are irreversibly intertwined as Louis and Harry embark on the daily adventure of Los Angeles.

* * *

“Alexis is going to come by later and bring us dinner. She wants to know if you want Indian or Thai. Niall said he would stop by as well and I know he prefers Indian but I’m kind of feeling some papaya salad…Ooh! Or maybe some larb!” Harry calls from the kitchen as Louis sets his box down on the floor and flops down on the couch.

“You choose, Harold. I’m too tired to care.”

“Louuuu,” Harry drawls, walking out of the kitchen to find Louis lying down. “You know there is more shit to unload, don’t you?”

“I do, Harold. I do, indeed.” Louis stretches his arms toward Harry, spread wide, welcoming him to join Louis on the couch. “Just taking a brief respite. I need to recharge my batteries a little. Now get your ass over here.”

“Why do I need to lie down? I want to get this over with!”

“Because you’re my power source. Obviously.” Louis gives a half pout with a furrowed brow. “Now, please. Lie on me.”

Harry shakes his head but strides over to the couch, leaping over the back and landing bodily on top of Louis.

“_Oof_, you giant sack of potatoes! That is not what I meant,” Louis grunts.

“Just thought I could jumpstart the recharging.” Harry maneuvers himself around so they’re facing each other, his body stretched atop Louis’s, chests pressed together. He lowers his head and gives Louis a kiss. “Hey,” he says, gazing into Louis’s eyes.

“Hey,” Louis grins back. “I love you.”

“I love you so much, Louis.”

They lie there for a while, Harry’s eyes closing, lashes brushing against Louis’s cheek, before he nestles down and fits his forehead in the crook of Louis’s neck. His breathing syncs up with the rise and fall of Louis’s chest as he runs his fingers over Louis’s forearm, tracing his tattoos.

“You know…” Harry starts to speak but trails off. He turns his head so that his face is pressed against the side of Louis’s neck and gives him a gentle kiss.

“Hm?” Louis brings a hand up and laces his fingers in Harry’s hair. Harry preens a bit at the touch, then hoists himself up onto an elbow and throws an unfocused gaze across the living room at the pile of moving boxes waiting to be unpacked.

“You know…I had been planning to move out here for so many years. Even before Alexis came out, I knew I wanted to live here someday.”

“You’ve told me that before.” Louis studies Harry’s face, his brow furrowed, not sure where this is going, unable to read Harry’s suddenly thoughtful expression.

“It’s just…” He shakes his head, seemingly snapping himself out of something, and looks down. He looks bashful as he searches for the right words. “In all that time, I didn’t ever think it would look like this. Moving, this place, this _life_. It’s so different from anything I ever anticipated.”

Louis purses his lips and his brows draw together. “Is that…is that a _good_ thing? Because you know I can’t relate. I had zero expectations and all of this is just—” Harry cuts him off with a kiss.

“Sparky.” Harry pulls back and presses a finger to Louis’s lips. “It’s _so_ good.”

Louis gazes up at Harry, his lips quirking up into a smile, his eyes turning a bit watery. He pulls Harry’s hand away from his mouth and cranes his neck up to press their lips together as firmly as he can manage.

“Fuck!” He drops his head back onto the couch cushion and swipes at his eyes. “I love you so much!”

Harry smiles and lowers his head, their noses brushing together. “I think you had the right idea…the rest of the boxes can wait. What I really need now is some recharging.”

“Mmm…” Louis closes his eyes and moans. “I love it when you say I’m right.”

“But this kind of recharging isn’t going to do it for me,” Harry says, sitting up abruptly, his hands on Louis’s chest.

“Please, tell me Harold. What do you require?”

“I think you know the answer to that.” Harry waggles an eyebrow at Louis before leaping up and sauntering off in the direction of their bedroom.

“But your sister is coming! And Niall!” Louis sits up and calls over the back of the couch, watching as Harry disappears through the bedroom door.

“Good! They can help unload the rest of our shit!” Harry says, then pops his head back out. “Now grab a set of sheets out of that box of linens over there and get your ass in here.”

Louis tumbles off the couch and scans the stack of boxes quickly before locating the right one.

“I can’t believe you’re the one shirking responsibility. That’s usually my job,” Louis says as he rummages through the box, searching for a fitted sheet.

“The boxes can wait, Sparky. We have time.”

Louis smiles to himself as he finds what he’s looking for, because they do. They have so much time.


End file.
